Mind Forest
by Zelavril
Summary: AU On the run from the Airyglyph Army and The Crimson Blade, Fayt and Cliff make way towards the city of Aquios. But as trouble brews up in Aquios, the two men must learn that running away isn't always the best option...Chapter 7 up!
1. Prologue: Weaving the Path

**Disclaimers: **You know I would love to own Star Ocean 3, just so I could turn it into a Yaoi feast, and torture Sophia. However that's not possible. Fayt, Cliff and co. all belong to Square Enix.

**Plot Theosis: **(AU- Slightly!) Fayt and Cliff: two drifting travellers, partnered only by chance with no reason for exploring other than their own entertainment. On the run from The Crimson Blade (and from most of Peterny), the two make their long way towards the city of Aquios. But these two travellers must learn that running away from everything isn't always a wise option...

** Pairings:** Cliff x Fayt. Don't like? Use the back button :D!

**Warnings for Chapter: Nakedness of the Cliff. That's it. And mild OOC of Fayt.**

---

**  
**

**Prologue: Weaving the Path... **

There was nothing about that tainted crimson sky that night that suggested anything normal or ordinary was going to happen.

Two weary, distinguished travellers were trekking slowly through a forest east of Parch. Cliff Fitter- a blond, broad muscular man, with the pride of a great dragon- strode in front and waded into the deep retreat of bushes, leaving stripe after stripe of path and ruin. The smaller, more relaxed figure was quite shorter, quite younger, and he weaved quietly in and out through the zebra markings the older one had left in his wake; Fayt, with his natural blue hair, silent embrace and clear environmental protocol, passed through the woods behind Cliff stealthily as if not wanting to wake the spirits, sleeping sleazily, wherever they would be. Cliff punched and grabbed and pulled at any blockage possible, and cleared it by hand; whatever obstacle Fayt faced, he avoided. Fayt blended in contently amongst the leaves, stones and weeds in the fields; Cliff just rammed through them, facing that monster wherever-many-feet-away.

Here is the surprise that bound those two travellers together.

Within hours, Fayt found a small patch of emerald green; rich soil, blanketed by a treasury of rocks, boulders, and a glistening stream. He smiled gently, walking around the small area carefully, eyeing up every detail delicately, feet uncurling, breathing slowly. Cliff, on the other hand, stomped proudly behind him, kicking his foot at the earth, cursing as he stubbed a toe. He then hopped all over the dusky ground, powdered heat flying, stones crunching; and then fell over a nearby log. He rubbed his head painfully, and as he looked up, he found his ocean puppy eyes looking up at serene jade ones, as Fayt towered above him, eyes raised and patient. "Jeez," the younger one muttered, lending out his hand and helping the Klausian back up onto his feet. But then Fayt eyed the area again, eyes darting from corner to corner like a hawk.

The silence was soon broken. "Well, Cliff. What do you think?" Fayt asked softly, one hand fixed on his left hip. "You think it'll do for tonight?"

Cliff looked back towards Fayt as he tried to pull down a low branch from a tree. "Well…it ain't perfect." He said, grasping the thick bark with his strong, Klausian fingers. He then proceeded to try and drag the tree down to his level, like a horse would drag a plough. Within seconds, the branch became adjusted to its' new shape, and limped, almost like a climbing tree which had been climbed a little too much. "But it's alright." He eventually growled.

Fayt nodded without a sound, sliding gently onto the floor as elegantly as he could.

And elegant he was. Not a spectacle of earthen dusk took wing from the ground, not even as Fayt's boots dragged across its surface, not even as Fayt's wistfully cautious fingers began to slowly open and pull out their material for the tent. Its' deep, thick and daunting interior wrapped itself around the faint, sealed cuts of his fingers, and contrasted to the crimson flush that blistered upon Fayt's face from their running. He straightened out the thick quilt as he spoke. "You think they'll find us?"

A huge smile plastered over Cliff's face. "Maybe. But at least I won't get a few words from those people from Peter- whatcha-ma-call-it." He then laughed and tied the tree down.

Anger seemed to spill over Fayt's face, but he restrained his expression to calm glower. "What do you mean, "you won't get a few words from those people"? You nearly killed her!"

Cliff slapped his forehead, and feigned innocence. "Argh, but I didn't really do anything!" He stared at the ground, his fist clenched slightly and his gaze split between Fayt and the river behind him.

"All I did was talk to her-"

"That's not all you did. You did more than that."

"Argh, alright. Fine. So I touched her ass." Cliff droned loudly. "So. I touched her ass, and she got pissy with me."

"Cliff," Fayt said dangerously, his eyes focusing on Cliff softly, "That wasn't just any woman, you know!" He looked back to the dusky earth, and then rose to his feet, throwing the grey cloth over the branch. "That woman was Lady Nel. And you're lucky it didn't get any worse than it did."

"If you didn't get into that _brouhaha_ with Tynave and _make me force you out of there_, we could have stayed at the inn tonight, and we'd be in Aquios already!"

Cliff sighed loudly, kicking off his boots and unzipping his shirt. He marched over to river angrily, eyebrows tinted with fury. "You know what?" Cliff stated stubbornly, "You worry too much."

Fayt's eyes whipped up from the earth and turned themselves onto the back of Cliff sharply like knives.

"And you don't worry enough!"

-----

Silence crept through the night as Fayt shivered violently under a paper thin sheet, the moonlight refracting through the cloth above him. No creature stirred; well, except for Cliff in the distance, but Fayt had learned how to block out those noises within time, how to drift away silently into a world of his own. His eyes fluttered open for a moment, shifted around dazedly and rolled off his back, tucking his knees closer into his chest, desperate for some warmth as the bitter air bit and nipped at his body. His fingers and toes curled. His hair fell over his face, and as if it were a spell of some sort, Fayt began to yawn absently, smiling to himself as he heard the little sounds, and interpreted them inside his head.

_---Swhoosh!_ – Cliff had just nearly slipped on a rock…or apparently, just has.---

_---Shhh…_ Cliff is sitting midstream, and is blocking the mainstream flow. Those are the little waves crashing against his back….---

Echoes grew louder.

---_Plip, Plop…_ Cliff is drying himself off; his hair is wet…---

And sleepily, as the noises drew closer and closer, Fayt's eyes collapsed slowly onto each other, ears finally withdrawing themselves from proper sounds, and failing into a remote and deceiving slumber.

---

Cliff had been the first of the two to awaken that morning.

The haze had been nothing spectacular at first; delicate yet bitter. The wavy grass meters away smelt the same, the dusky earth still smelt dead. Even Fayt's feet, which were inevitably turned from Cliff's face as if in some sort of disdain, smelt no different; warding and indifferent. Everything was polar to Cliff, everything was just so…normal. Everything was everything. Silent, angry and cold.

The gentle wind played a silent rhythm in Cliffs blond fringe, each hair electrifying to a stand.

Each photon of light that drifted through the cloth above him dripped bloody rubies, cerise scrapings of holy injury glimmered softly on Cliffs' blank, emotionless face. His eyes wavered, thinking, pondering. A bird cawed slowly in the distance, each note echoing and stabbing through the atmosphere, and into Cliff's ears. And then, suddenly, something just didn't feel right. As though he was on a raft and drifting further and further from a shipwreck, with no hope of return or no hope of land. As though something was living within the very edges of his shadow, and pulling him away from everything.

He glanced at Fayt, who was softly sleeping into his palm, his faint cerulean eyebrows only stirring if the wind crept onto his bare toes. Yet, everything about the way Fayt slept seemed distant. And _like hell_ Cliff liked it.

But he sat, and lay, and did nothing but think, gazing emptily into the distance.

---

"Cliff?"

"Huh? Wha?"

"What were you thinking about?"

"How long you been watching for?"

"About two minutes."

_Man, give a guy a minute to think, and he catches on!_

---

"What were you thinking about?"

"…Nothing, kid. Just forget about it."

…_Like I'm going to do that…_

_---_

Fayt slowly munched at the last of his blackberries that morning, eyeing Cliff from the side as Cliff stripped and bathed in the lake.

"..Aren't you going to?" Cliff said as he wadded his way into the crystal clear water. It seemed to sparkle like Cliff's deep sapphire eyes for a moment, ethereal light glimmering from each side. But Fayt thought nothing more of it.

"Uh. No, it's ok. I'll go in after you." He said passively.

There was a small pause before Cliff swam up to the surface of conversation to breathe in some words.

"Oh. Okay, kid." Cliff pulled a cheeky face. "Ahh well. At least I know I don't smell!"

Quiet fury plastered over Fayt's face. "What are you suggesting?" He whispered quietly at first, but soon his voice found confidence. And the voice posed a challenge to the older, husky blond. "Hey. Cliff, what do you mean, "I know I don't smell"?"

Fayt, unconsciously, dipped his bare feet into the cold water. He shivered, his pores resisting the cold, but welcoming the fresh feeling of the water rushing through his toes, the feeling of being _alive_.

Silence reigned- well, verbal silence reigned as Fayt watched Cliff daydream and stare openly at the sky, yet again deep in thought. His entire naked body seemed to float haplessly and skim along the surface like a water skeetle, or like a lost beach ball wafting further into the blue of an ocean. Tiny ripples skittered from the rim of his body, and as Fayt's toes flickered in the water meters, the two packs of ringlets began to cross and overlap each other in the distance. But no eye saw this.

"So- what?" Fayt continued. "What were you saying?"

"I know I don't stink, kid, 'cause I'm in water and _getting a wash_." Cliff teased slowly.

"And …what? I don't?" Fayt murmured._ Not like you where you wouldn't wash for four days because of your hair…_

"Well…" Cliff lied gracefully, a snicker emerging and making his lips quiver. "You probably don't notice…_that kind of stuff_…" Fayts' eyes flickered, if only in disbelief, and Cliff remained silent, smiling happily to himself as he began to see Fayt glancing all over his body for the "smell"; sometimes running his fine fingers through his hair, quietly sniffing around and even looking frustrated. A few moments passed, and Cliff sighed loudly, tired of his joke.

"Why don't you just get one?"

"Because I- Oh, what! What do you want?!" Fayt huffed.

"Ohhh…" Cliff teased again, this time, putting his fingertips to his lips as he drifted closer, "you say something? Or were you sulking?"

"What do you think?!" Fayt countered as quietly as he could muster, but a tiny shade of pink had caught onto his cheeks. He kept his face down, hiding it masterfully with his blue locks.

Cliff suddenly laughed again, his voice bouncing loud through each corner of each and every dimension possible in the wilderness. The sun peeped through from behind the trees, burning into the corner of Cliff's eye. The ripples around his body seemed to quake, and as he thought, the birds in the trees and branches above them seemed to sing in a steady beat.

"Gee," Cliff droned eventually, "it was a J-O-K-E. Can't you take a joke?"

---

"So, what? It's that way to Parch now?"

"Yeah."

"…Let me see the map, Cliff."

"Wha-? Now you want to see it?" Cliff moaned. "Why do you want to see the map?"

"Don't trust you. Let me see it." Fayt said simply.

"Aww, alright… here… take it, then."

"Right, thanks…hey! Hey, Cliff! Give that back!"

And then all Fayt saw was Cliff golden honey hair bobbing up and down in the distance, through all the emerald scorned fields, laughing and snorting, eyes squinting towards the younger one playfully…

After all, with the village of Xiena to the west, Parch to the far north west, and Aquios just after that, surely the two travellers had only a few journeys on their hands?

Fayt shut his eyes for a brief moment, and wondered, _how the heck did I get stuck with him?_

_---_

**Zels' Notes: **Why "Mind Forest"? This was something someone asked me earlier. "It sounds buggy" were her words. Well... I'll tell you all that the title will eventually have a larger meaning than the typical meaning of nature and travelling. It's got more... Zelly mentality behind it.

Why am I writing Cliff x Fayt? I've had a few questions on this. You could say I'm a devoted fan, or that I'm just completely obsessed. Don't ask why, but in my mind, the couple works :) Simple as that, really.

This is not going to be one of my typical one-shots, so beware of Zelly poisoning from now on. Having said that, I have been told I have problems with grammar, so if anybody could give me some clues as to what's iffy, I would really welcome your help. Plus, I don't mind what people really say about my work. So...yeah, I won't bite you :)


	2. Chapter 1: De Fumo in Flamman

**Disclaimer: **Zelavril does not own Star Ocean 3, or Fayt, or Cliff, or Mirage Koas, or Albel, or Sophia. Square Enix does. I do not earn money from this, either. Which is rather sad, for I art penniless.

**Chapter Theosis:** Well, this chapter answers the question; how did Fayt get stuck with Cliff? Based in Airyglyph, Cliff is one of the most important and influential members of the Glyphian armies. Supposedly looking after "'Bels'" house, instead he leads a sickly woman by the name of Mirage into the castle wards. And with rumours of a shady, dangerous character on the run, nowhere's safe. But nothing can run under the eyes of Sir Cliff…or can it?

**Warnings: **None yet .Maybe some identity issues, but no like? Either ignore or click away…

**Authors Notes:** Yata! I finally wrote it up! –Dodges the complaints- Okay, so I'm lazy. Myeh. Plus, I had a great big block when it came to this story this time round, and it was horrible. But I got over it after a while, and got myself typing. Today I did 3 of the 11 pages this eventually took up in Word! Whoa! And in less than an hour, too! I surprised myself. Mind you, I've had help from the twins with their insane ideas driving me to write sane things ("Cliff must have a Pinyata this Chapter!" and "Fayt should buy a first aid kit for Cliff!"- Like I said, insane)

Shoutouts: **4 Quintessence** Haha! I wuv you so much, you realise that? Yeah, I wanted to make Cliff sneaky. He reaks of the sneakiness factor in the game, he really does...nah, I made up Xiena, and it was actually very random...but now I realise you can take away the "i" and it says a old TV series...opps. Yep, he was refering to the wash, and I was going to make Fayt pop in with him...but then I thought "nah, develop more!" I'm trying to make them both sneaky in their own ways...I'm not brilliant at it, but...alas, I've tried :) Yes, go Cliff x Fayt! Anyhow, onto Chapter 1 here ('cause the other was a prologue)

**Chapter 1- ****De Fumo in Flammam (Out of the smoke, and into the flame)**

_Fayt POV_

_It didn't matter where I was, or whether I tried to change my name, or how I tried to hide. They were always after me; and that was always the problem._

_The many times I was caught, I'd escape again. If only to be captured again each and every time. It was a cycle. A never ending cycle._

_That was how they liked it, I guess. Playing cat and mouse with me; "we saw him here, he brought weaponry from here". Always alone. Being with others was too dangerous anyway._

_Being with people was like putting oil and water together. We just didn't mix. It was unnatural for us to be together. I suppose you could say that my meeting with Cliff then was like mixing water with fire, like darkness against light, like putting an electron with a positron and expecting something to produce from the equation. Maybe my scientific terminology isn't the best thing to use to link with Cliff, but that's how I see what we have. Travelling together just wouldn't make sense to the common eye. We're too different. We try and override each other, like matter and antimatter, our personalities fighting and clashing, as if competing to find out just who was the better person. Neither side wins._

…_But…then maybe…maybe that is how it's meant to be? Two opposites, linked by gravity, our own magnetic field, I suppose? I can't explain what I feel, but…_

_Oh yeah… how…how I did I get stuck with him?_

Elicoor. The date, unknown. The hour, the sixth hour of the left ascension. The weather was vicious, bitter and deceivingly bright _even_ for the rugged town of Airyglyph. Pockets of people scattered in the town, little children shuddering from the bitter cold and skittering, criss-crossing their way through the pearl snow, laughing happily as they played with their siblings, the same smiles eclipsing on their faces. The crunching of snow under each and every foot crystallised and ebbed away into ocean blue floods as the bony, fruitless trees towered over them, climbing their way onto the jagged, crumbling castle walls. The flag of the Dragon Brigade and Airyglyph seemed to quiver against the devilish gusts of wind.

A boy sat against the outer wall of the city timidly, his unnatural seaweed eyes piercing quietly through the thick cloak that bound and hid his face. His legs crossed themselves, as though his ankles were conjoined or chained by symbology, as if he were some sort of travelling slave. _Some sort of enchanting slave, even. _Even his tiny, icy fingers that were latched onto his smooth, masculine hands seemed to hint at a tale of necromancy, as if the power of his mind was re-writing the environs, the sheer existence of everything that existed around him. Even the children noticed.

A blonde little girl toddled up to him away from her mother, her nose running down her lips, lisping. "I like your hair, _Miss_."

He grinned silently to himself. "Thanks," His fingers tapped against his cloak, covering his face more. "But…" His belt buckled nervously, the metal clinking silently, silently into the frosty air.

"You have really lovely hair!" She babbled, her cheeks flushing as the snowflakes bit against her cheeks. "Why is your voice so low? Are you shy, Miss? You shouldn't be! Why's your hair so _blue_? Is that why you wear that cloak? Huh? Huh?"

She asked all of this very quickly. A ball rolled behind her and touched her ankles. It bounced back slightly and wobbled from side to side

The thin boy smiled gently, biting his lower lip out of natural nerves. He was motionless, his presence rippling away at the atmosphere as the wind played notes on his cloak. _–I can't stay here for long…--_

"_Mirage!_" The mother stressed. "Mirage Koas, you come back here this instant!"

The stones above their heads crumbled softly with the wind.

"Thanks." He repeated, and sauntered away quietly, trying his best to hide his blush. "You too."

Within seconds, he walked slowly past a Glyphian bar, the snow plummeting down as the sign swung gently above his head. The blanket of snow wisped on his head, and the flakes feathered down onto his nose tenderly. The metal at his side was the only thing sounding; _cling, clang, cling…_

The smell of alcohol soothed and calmed the his senses, relaxed his body as he saw spilt beer in the alleyway, dripping jagged lines through each crack on the floor, immersing the stony world below him like a typhoon. His eyes were captured by the pebbles that released themselves between the moon-cracked flooring, the connected _outsiders_ of the earth, only served to remind him of everything he was. Anyway, he wasn't meant to be in the Great City of Airyglyph when it was a lookout spot for them-

_Thump! _

He felt something large beat against his chest before he staggered back.

Sharp, blood soaked eyes cut into his face. "Watch where you going, _fool!_" The voice barked. The cloak had fallen over to only half reveal his face, and Fayt tampered with the metal at his belt for a second, but before anything ordinary could happen, he met the behind of the persons' treacle coloured hair, the swishing strands of braids bouncing angrily in the distance.

_-Albel Nox- what a name, I suppose… for being the most obnoxious human being in the Milky Way.-_

"Damn you," Fayt muttered sulkily, watching the marching man saunter into the city stampede. He then fixed his cloak so that it covered his face almost entirely, his name of _"Fayt Leingod" _being wrapped up in those few strings of particles so that it was almost forgotten.

Moments passed and the boy trekked on further to the town, closer to his destination. He passed the fruit store (all the fruit was dead, obviously…winter weather eaten away at the crops) and carried on. He passed the book store (which had been an Enchantment store in previous years, before all the followers of Apris had been executed) and carried on. He even passed the weaponry store without second thought. After all, he needed no repairs for his sword. He needed no new armour. He'd bought it all the day before, as had been the plan.

That inn, the only store that offered some sort of foreign welcome to the boy. The draperies of the windows were basic yet inviting; snow white like everything around him, but curiously warm and definitely not as tacky as other shops he had seen along the way. The door was cool to the touch, but fresh to the mind. He pushed his way through the door, his cape causing a rounded pattern in the snow on the stepping stones.

It was clean and simple building. He guessed it had only taken a few Fol to maintain and run the building, since everything around him was so _austere_, so…_different_ from any other inns he had even been in the past. A mousey haired woman sat politely at the unscathered but common desk, her smile seemingly trying to melt the icicles in his mind.

He approached her, his face still covered.

"How much is one room please?" He asked quietly.

To the lady, however, the only things she saw moving were his lips. She suddenly frowned, and the droplets of snow outside them quickly turned into a blizzard of raining sleet. The droplets slithered down slowly, and out of the corner of his eye, they young boy spotted something golden outside the window…

"Just 150 Fol, Sir." She hummed sweetly. "But…" She continued, unsure.

"What is it?"

"It's…uh….it's…I mean…"

"Go on?"

"I need to see your face, Sir. We're trying to track down a…you know…that assassin?"

He placed his hand on his left hip. "You're saying _I'm_ this person? Or is this just some routine check?" _–Maybe-_ He thought, near enough answering his first question.

She shook her head adamantly, her blush battling its way through her cheeks. "Uh…n-no! Not as at all! I-it's just, you see…" She pointed at a poster behind her, a males' blank expression beaming itself through scraggy letters, claiming "Wanted". The artist seemed to make the man look ugly.

"…some soldiers marched their way through here this morning, actually. Made me p-put this up. They say it says something about a murderer of some sort, I don't know. I can't read that well. Killed some of Woltars' men in…ah… some sort of raid. It's strange actually, because normally…you know…that sort of thing…never happens. She sat there momentarily, biting her fingers. "Sir, I need to see your face." She stated calmly.

The boy raised his eyebrows, the fringe of his hair barely visible. "My face?" he muttered, his tone rose slightly.

"Yes."

"…This person must be causing some trouble, then?"

"Y-yes."

He looked down nervously at his own feet. "I see, then."

Snow fluttered its way through cracks in the window, fayed and sat pleasantly on the war torn ledge. A pair of deep cobalt eyes suddenly peeped themselves through the window, and then anxiously turned away into the road, the clobbering of footsteps apparent in the distance, always there._ Clink, clunk, clink clunk…_ the sounds of army horses braying in the distance, getting closer, always closer… the cloaked man didn't notice and stared straight into the eyes of woman. Something quivered within her stone black eyes.

"You should have gained notification of my visit, at least, Ma'am. I'm lodging with a…" His eyes caught a list on the side of the table. _–Fitter?! Oh, I see. A surname…- _"Cliff Fittir, Ma'am. He said to expect me here."

The young girl eyes suddenly dashed around excitedly. "Sir Fittir's going to be here?!"

"Uh, yeah..." He bit his lip, "He's…my trainer." His innocent, self-reliant little grin was more than deceiving, his little green eyes gleaming innocently as those fingers curled under his cloak, revealing those eyes for only for a fraction of a second. And after that fraction of a second, a mouse scuttled its way across the floor. Its claws dug their ways into the crusty earth, and then fled as Fayt's foot shuffled silently. No trails or footprints, nor where there sources of its existence; but still, it happened. With a risky shake of his head, the cloth was put back into place.

The girl seemed to shuffle in time with his feet; if only to reach for the keys. "Room 13, third floor." She chimed, her frozen purple nails gleaming. Number 13; the ideal number for him.

He raised his eyebrows, surprised that such a reaction could spurt from her mouth. He then smiled shrewdly. "And…my face?"

"No matter."

She then rushed towards the back door, bringing out a bag of potions a few seconds later. She grabbed his hand, opening them up simply, as his hands had done with locks, many time before. "For the training," she stated. "On me, of course."

He smiled gently. "Thank you"

A little bow.

_-Enemy or no, I had to be polite. That's just the way things are!-_

"You're very welcome."

He turned when she gave him the keys, his hip gripped by his belt, weighing heavily as his feet. All three flights of stairs creaked under his tiny weight, and the shimmered perfection of the clean floor succumbed to the smooth wet liquid that laced his boots. Within moments though, it slipped its way through the floorboards as though the water was in hiding. And as the boy slipped through the door after that key of his-_ours_- clicked silently, and that door 13 clicked shut along with him, his cloak fell to the floor…

Fayt sat himself on the bed, unpacking his few belongings; a small map of Airyglyph (showing _certain_ routes to a _certain_ place), rolls upon rolls of bandages, a letter blade, some necklaces with encrypted runes- and a small letter.

Light peered in from the corners of the horizon as Fayt read the letter to himself. "So, that's why I needed these…" He muttered quietly.

The shimmer of the sun exploded into sunspots of deep blood, scattering their way across the sky. But that was not caught by Fayt's precautious eyes.

He stopped reading for a moment. A star shimmered quietly early in the evening. Fayt's eyes caught its existence, and looked down onto one of his runes.

"I'm coming for you…" He murmured weakly, his stone cold eyes finally seeming to falter, those windows to his soul never fluttering. "You're out there, I know it…"

---

_Cliff POV_

War had always been a common topic in Airyglyph; no matter what the weather (which never changed). Whether it was an international dispute with Greeton, an ongoing set of bickering towards Aquaria, or simply throwing knives at minor countries like Xiena, Airyglyph always seemed to be the bully of Elicoor- and with that, they had one of the largest fleets and terrains to prove it. Maybe they weren't the most intelligent of continents- Greeton won in that sense- but with most families having lost a loved one in war at some point, it would seem that the bark and bite of Airyglyph proved to be just as cold and bitter as the snow that wisped and blanketed the country.

The Fittir family had never really belonged to Airyglyph, but that was still beyond the point. They were no different to the fact that despite their "royal blood", as Sir Cliff often proposed, that they too lost some of their family in the past. Blacksmiths brutally killed in vicious raids on their homeland, scouts hunted down for their access knowledge on political situations, ancient rulers poached through treacheries…they were the same as everyone else. Each century passed Airyglyph with the same types of families washing away like sand to the tides of war and violence, with the same blue blood dripping away slowly…

Cliff was different.

"Whatever you say," Cliff whined loudly, "Ya want me to guard 'Bels' house, sure. I get ya!"

Cliff was a thousand miles different from anyone else.

He wore nothing but tight trousers and a dark matter top that seemed to grin and gleam at anyone who glared upon it, even in the bitter-cold weather. His knuckles- strong, gentle blocks of hands- flexed themselves loosely as he stood with a group of soldiers in front of the castle. He was nodding his head eagerly, only half listening to what the others had to say, stroking his chin, the lines of silver on his gauntlet gaining a misted gleam under his breath. The other soldiers wore heavy suits of daunting armour with scratches and dents to each side, with weaponry and spears that were as blunt as a swords' sheave. Even when the falling flakes and the hurt armour touched, no water dripped. Cliff smiled for a moment and stuck his tongue out for a moment, trying to catch the crystals on his tongue.

"Ah…Sir Cliff, there is one slight problem with…" One soldier muttered nervously.

Cliff barely looked up. "Huh?"

"T-there was an arrest in Kirlsa this morning; a merchant was a suspect of foul play…"

Cliffs' clown like grin spread childishly across his face. "They get him?"

"O-but of course, they did!" The same soldier boomed cautiously, trying not to enrage Cliff by mocking him. He stomped his spear into the hazy ground suddenly as men in flurry white robes walked through the towering, rusty castle gates, each footprint leaving a mini-signature into the ground. "The man was charged with treason, Sir!" He is to be executed within the following three days for that; as well as being a practitioner of Apris!" He sneering, spiting at the blizzard coated floor, marring the beauty of it.

"Damn Aquarian scum. Can't see why they didn't figure him out on the spot. They're odd enough." A younger soldier with grey hair commented after him.

Another soldier, blond, butted in. "Yeah, those rotten, filthy vermin. And what; it's strange how they claim the richer lands. Isn't that right, Sir Cliff?"

Cliff's eyes scattered uneasily. "Huh? Oh…uh…sure…"

---

_And then I carried on, left the room, and for the castle…for the hospital, of course…_

_---_

"See? Even Sir Cliff agrees." The blond soldier seemed to take Cliff's unease as a sign of encouragement, and so continued. "I don't understand why they should live on fertile land, where they can grow decent food, while we face bitter winters and withered crops. It's unfair."

But another soldier suddenly smiled. "But I've heard the women in the church -and in the Crimson Blade, I might add- are hot!" He licked his lips suddenly, the iced crystals slivering stealthily down his chin.

Cliff dazed out for a moment. _Those women…_the women he had seen whilst travelling through the Palmira Plains, and during those times when he'd been observing previous "situations" in Arias… he had lost himself through staring at the chests of wonder each and every woman in that village had. To Cliff, he felt that the women were almost like sirens; beautiful and tempting, but forbidden and dangerous to even consider. The wind tickled gently against his ears every time he saw a beautiful woman, teasing him as he had seen the crimson rouge of Lady Nel every morning, and the sweeping storm of Lady Clair's long, seductive hair. Even at a distance, these women seemed heavenly.

The bantering of the other soldiers continued, and a pile of snow fell from the bakery shop, crashing down perfectly on Lady Esteed. Cliff tried his best to stifle laughter as he heard the pitch-erroneous squeal, as he saw her stagger towards the floor. The other soldiers ran over to her aid as she clutched her fingers dramatically, screaming about how she had "cracked a nail".

He couldn't hold it in any longer. Cliff howled and collapsed into the sandy snow, rolling on his sides. Miss Esteed, not amused, attempted to throw a shoe at his face, but gracefully missed as the heel of the shoe fell to the ground, only to be clobbered by another pile of snow.

"Ahh!" She squeaked, "My poor shoe!"

Cliff laughed again, words formulating into his mouth, but never escaping. --_This is why I'm so different!-- _He thought simply.

However, suddenly, amidst the madness of Lady Esteeds' amateur dramatics, the slate of Cliff's normality abruptly as a twist of fate challenged and devoured his eyesight. The echoing sounds of crunching snow suddenly touched and caressed Cliff's ears as a slim, bandaged figurine approached the gates, a thin cloak barely gripping against the person's shoulders. Cliff rose, staring the figure down. Of course it was odd. This persons' dainty appearance seemed to plead for help, a lighter touch, as the figure stepped barefooted into the snow, its' toes dragging the snow like digger would do clearing a busy road. The eyes were nowhere to be seen as the beings' body was ragged tip to toe with bandages, but its' presence quaked with an intriguing sense of symbology, and just seeing this person before his eyes made Cliff's heart beat out of curiosity. Feeling cocky, Cliff tried to lean against the gate, but something in him made him slip into the pillow-like snow. The particles wrestled with each other quietly in the air as, when Cliff fluttered open his eyes, he met with dazzling jewel ones. _Capturing jade_, _alluring_ _jade_. Cliff had always been a sucker for green eyes, and didn't he know it… ()

---

_Not once, at that moment anyway, did I think that I was looking into the windows of the person who I'd learn to love forever, looking down upon him after he plummeted into the snow…my heart and desire…_

---

The figure smiled politely, lending out a bandaged hand. Cliff raised his eyebrows.

"You here to go to the medical rooms, urm…?" Cliff stumbled on his words.

The figure withdrew its' hand slightly as his lips began to curl in thought. It froze for a moment, like the short, icy blue locks that strayed but then jollily jolted it back out again like a bolt of electricity.

"I'm…_Mirage. _Mirage Koas." The figure lied

Cliff gazed a little more into those magnetic eyes, wondering if any reflections in those eyes could paint an even more _beautiful_ image than he had already seen. This "Mirage's" eyes screamed of an ancient magic that chained him to the spot, as if he were a slave that was to be feed to this person's desires. He was bait to _her_ notoriously slender arms, and her finely shaped nails surfed neatly around a wave of skin, _perfectly_. "Mirage" didn't bite her nails, that was for sure. And along with her dazzling femininity married her charming masculinity…the power of the muscle within her tiny, fragile arms indicated that this "Mirage" wasn't just the average lady with a pretty face. A buckle lay gripped to her waist, if only to keep up the bandages that obviously covered her _naked _chest.

Cliff was swiftly thrust back into the world of reality, as "Mirage" waved her thin, slender fingers in front of his face.

"Are you okay, Sir? You look as though you seen as ghost." "Mirage" asked shyly.

"No…I mean, yeah! Sure." Cliff corrected himself, coughing slightly.

"Good. And yeah, I am going to the hospital. Do you need help getting up?" She asked kindly.

Cliff was unsure. Namely because of the bandages, but also because her eerie beauty. He rose to his feet, brushing the snow from his legs. A particle of snow fell slowly from her cloak, and hit the small pile Cliff had brushed from between his legs. "No. I'll be alright." He groaned stubbornly. –_Can't tell what disease she might have, no matter how pretty she is—_He thought awkwardly. His eyes then wandered for a moment as he saw Lady Esteed and the other soldiers walking away with her, little pouches of money being thrown from their palms. The jingle of the Fol inside seemed to crash rigorous notes in the distance. _–Ah, well. Can't be any worse than hers…--_

Her eyes fluttered weakly. "C-can you show me the way to the hospital, please? I…I don't know where I'm going…"

Cliff looked at her deceiving face, and smiled. "Sure, Miss. And the name's Cliff Fitter. I'm a sire!" He boasted confidently, grabbing that frail hand as he passed through the creaky gates along with her, and into the castle courtyard.

The tapestries that hung from the walls cried the voices of an ancient history, of an ancient civilisation that most of the townsfolk rather themselves forget. The finely laced hairs tangled and elaborated themselves as they intertwined with the unusually rich silk at the base of the pattern, much as did white snow with the stormy skies above them. Mirage's eyes gleamed wildly as she saw the ladders within the towers, towering up to an anonymous height; as she saw the frozen pond (which was almost always frozen anyway) glimmer peacefully without a scar from scratches or foot; and she smiled upon the magnificent fortress that barricaded themselves from the castle of Airyglyph. Even Cliff noticed something was amiss about her. Women didn't often admire machinery, weapons, or soldiers duelling in the battlegrounds, after all…but this Mirage certainly did. Her wrists even seemed to jiggle in reaction to the attacking swordsman, as if she herself was defending with a sword. _–What a strange lady!—_Cliff contemplated, grabbing her hand firmly.

"It's to the right, now! C'mon, ya can't be lagging to see those guys fighting, can you Miss?" He demanded, dragging her through the snow. A zigzag pattern flared through the skies up above.

"That's Fay…Mirage to you." She replied stubbornly, power-walking alongside Cliff. Cliff pondered what she was about to say before she corrected herself.

They soon reached the hospital grounds, just yards away from the barricades of the Royal Palace.

"Thank you very much." She smiled diffidently, fiddling gently with her fingers.

"Ya welcome! And next time you need fixing here in Airyglyph and wanna hand, give Sir Cliff a call! " He stomped arrogantly into the ground, stubbing a toe against a rock. He held his breath, trying not to unzip a cry of pain.

"Mirage" looked hesitant for a moment, as though she was frozen from knowing his acquaintance now that he had shown her the way to the hospice. But as the delicate sun peeped through the stormy clouds one final time, her anxiety slowly melted away. "Thank you…Sir Cliff." She bowed, those blue locks becoming entangled by the wind. How Cliff wished, at that moment, to run away and escape with that hair!

But he was different. His duty called.

"Get well soon. I don't suppose you have those bandages for nothing." He commented slyly, gaining a withered look from "Mirage".

"Anyhow…be careful! Ya need to get yaself rested up. These are hard times."

"..Thank you." She murmured impatiently. "I will."

And with that, "Mirage" and Cliff turned in different directions, away from each other. But only heaven could see just how parallel those footprints looked, as no matter how far away they seemed to walk, a force always seemed to connect them…

---

…And as "Mirage" entered the empty building, "she" unravelled the silk bandages from "her" face, each ravel unwinding "her" true appearance like a tornado within a desert…

Fayt emerged from beneath the masked demeanour, grinning happily, slipping himself through a broken window as he climbed stealthily up the ragged stone, slithering himself closer to the castle of Airyglyph, like casual serpent slinking closer to it's prey…

_--I'm_ _coming for you,_-- He mused. _–I'm coming.—_

The gentle wind breathed one last upon his smooth locks, before diminishing itself beneath a cloak of a maelstrom. They hovered and floated in the air listlessly for a small moment, and then collapsed themselves onto his shoulders, tired and weak from days of training… days of eager anticipation…with all sincerity waiting for this day to pass…

The moment never lost itself. He was a mirage to all who saw him on the rooftop, a trick of the eye which was never to be seen again when their eyes focused themselves back to where he was. And as he leapt over to the castle walls, his short sword unsheaved and necklace dangling form his neck, Fayt pursued on, the corners of his eyes only hesitating to meet- for what he thought would be the last time- with that stature that was Sir Cliff.

_--What the heck? What nerve…--_Fayt simmered as he climbed slowly up the jagged walls… --_Even if I'm not a woman_.--

---

**What the heck? To be continued, my dear friends!**

Zelly's Notes: Okay, so I lied! I gave in to one insane idea and made poor Fayt feminine. Poor Fayt :( Anyhow, I don't know what I'm meant to say! All will be revealed next chapter. 'Cause I'm either mean, or saving you from a world of illiteracy. Moo. But-but... Fayt shows a rather deviant side to him, this chapter round! And there's going to be a lot more development on him to come! I didn't do everything I wanted here with Fayt, but I had fun manipulating Cliff. He's so funny to write, and you know what? I reckon he is rather clumsy:D

Anyhow...I seem to have the shy and passive readers:) Either that or you all don't like reviewing ...anyhow, don't be afraid to say what you like here. I won't bite you :D I'll still be writing, but if you see anything wrong with this, please don't feel rude/shy; leave a review and tell me what's up :) Like I said, I don't mind !

My love!

Zel x


	3. Chapter 2: Odi et Amo

**Disclaimer: **If it were at all possible, I would become the head honcho of Square Enix, be super-rich, and create little FaytxCliffxAlbel (Albel!? Zel's starting to like couples with Albel in? No, she isn't…) chocolates for all the fan girls and fan boys out there! But alas, I do not own Star Ocean 3. Square Enix holds all rights to these characters, their names, places and their yaoi hinting plotlines. So I do not own Albel, Clair, Fayt or the wonderful Cliff.

I do own Asche, Freyjadour (Frey) and Aron though, and you'll find out who they are very soon…

**Chapter Theosis:** The two travellers continue their journey to Parch together… With the appearance of Mirage having quite a fluster upon Cliff, he went up to his inn room to relax…or did he? With some commotion igniting within the castle grounds, and a crazed Albel Nox on the loose, it wasn't the time to lie around…and where was this Mirage?

God, I am so stupid. Why? Well, if it weren't for my innate stupidity with Norton GoBack, this update would have came around some four weeks ago. Let's think Zel: Uhh, clever! Click on Disk Drive Clear, yeah! And don't save those fan fictions you just did onto a removable disk drive, no! (a.k.a. I deleted my C// drive completely. Hah :D ) It still works though, strangely enough-the laptop, I mean… then I go and do my arm in, and…ugh, fun…then my best friend issues a sense of 2 mania on my profile. Ohh, how I hate her sometimes… :D

**Shoutouts! (Forgot these!)**

(Sire) **4quintessence:** Had to include the Sire, now XD Yeah, poor Fayt. Though I think he'd be good cosplaying and improvising as a Mirage look-alike, he must hate me for putting him under so much stuff right now. Poor guy is losing his masculinity each time I write about him, poor guy...hehe, I want chocolate, now; look what you've done:) I was happy you thought my writing improved, I was a little sceptical about Chapter 1 and it's descriptions. There's mix-ups of sentences here and there, but I'm glad you liked their first sighting, so to speak. I worked quite hard on it -nods- Haha! Cliff _IS_ a Sire! Proof, Peterny Inn Scene: "This place is just about right for a man of noble birth like me" --- "Wait! You act like you don't believe me!" I dunno if he's being truthful or being...well, Cliff, but that's where that idea spurted from! XD Hmm...the idea with Sophia isn't that bad, actually! The issue of Fayt's seaweed eyes is a common argument between myself and a sister of mine: she claims Fayt's eyes are blue 0o But they're green, right? And I thought since I always somehow describe Cliff's eyes in an aquatic sense (ocean, sea) it would connect them more Oh, and...the little scene pops up here that I told you about in LJ! But I'm sure you knew that :P

**AlchemistM, IcyPirateChic, supX**: Yay for your alerts and favs! Hope you all like this chapter, I worked hard on it...

**Chapter 2- Odi et Amo (Hate and Love) **

"Cliff!" Fayt rasped, chasing after Cliff through the fields, weaves of grass caught in his heels and flickering sweetly as the deep, caramel sun dripped his shoulders.

"Cliff!" He gasped again. "Geez, give it back already!"

Running and then tumbling into the grass, the man known as Cliff childishly hid the map behind his head, his cheeks raised as high and as bright as two devilish sunrises, his riveting, atmospheric eyes twisting and stirring with a sort of unpredictable excitement. His breathing had changed from calm to heavy, and his nose scrunched as the wondrous aroma of an abated, alluring jade touched, _nibbled_ and caressed the tip of his nose. He sneezed, blowing the golden dust high into the air; still smiling as those weary olive portals above him flickered in a gentle temper.

Fayt's eyes fluttered, the pollen catching within his long lashes. Cliff's grin widened as Fayt, unfazed, reached out his hand.

"Cliff," he warned, sternly, "give me the map, Cliff."

A grin spread itself rapidly across Cliff's face like a rash, and snorted with laughter as Fayt raised his eyebrows.

"Here, ya big baby." Cliff smiled, withdrawing his hand from behind his back, revealing the map. Fayt's thin fingers reached for it gently, the touch lasting only for a second as Cliff whipped it straight away from them again.

"Heh."

"Cliff, give it!"

No movement.

"Cliff, I'm warning you."

"Ohh." Cliff teased, waving the flimsy map by the temple of his head. His handsome face scrunched cutely, and his fists clenched playfully in front of his face. "Was that Fayt Leingod, "warning"_ me?"_

A moment passed. The emerald of the willow that draped above his head wept silently, the drifting clouds covering the skies. A bird fluttered weakly from the lowest branch, its shadow creeping across Cliff's face, the shadows of its wings crossed haphazardly across his face. Broken leaves of gold shimmered radiantly in the distance, but in value, were nothing compared to the cove desert that was Cliff's hair. Slowly, slowly…

Fast-forward! …Fayt had leapt into Cliff, wrestling against those strong arms. Cliff gasped, wriggling his left hand as far away from Fayt as possible, as those gentle fingers traced and tickled at his spine. Cliff turned. He twisted. He wriggled and kicked and resisted. But Fayt did not give up. Fayt's fingers suddenly warped underneath his arms as he smiled roguishly, and started to tickle him…

Cliff flustered, stifling hysterics. "W-what ya doing, kid?!"

Fayt didn't stop tickling, or grinning. "I told you. Now I'm just going to keep on tickling till ya hand it over."

Those fingers suddenly began to trace up his spine, sending a series of ice daggers shooting through his nerves, his sticky honey hair matting and mixing itself with the grass. Mind pounding wildly, Cliff squinted around as he tossed and turned from side to side… "Hey!" He exclaimed, pointing to his right, "isn't that Parch?"

Fayt looked up, startled and alert. "Huh? Where?"

But Fayt saw nothing but the clear sky as he was pushed onto his back.

The dusk wavered across his face and traced his nose, as a plethora of wisped, hoary clouds dragged along, foreshadowing across the rich, dry earth. Within the corners of his eyes, he saw Cliff. Saw him leaping towards a set of rich, vermillion dripping trees, blossoms hanging, solemnly; well, that was until Cliff galloped over. As Fayt rose, he saw the petals fluttering onto chiselled cheeks, sliding off and plummeting to the ground.

Fayt caught up with him. Moments passed. Both under the trees- shadowy, sheltered mirth-Cliff reached for some ripe berries which hung over his head, munching away. Their essence split and marring the front of his teeth, Cliff turned.

"So…what's this Asche like? Hot?"

Fayt was silent for a moment, his eyes too focused on those berry-smeared lips. "Uh…she's alright."

Cliff smirked. "Hot, then."

Fayt's cheeks glowed a hot pink. "H-hey, wait a sec! When did I say she was "hot"?"

"Relax. I'm just teasing ya."

"Teasing?" Fayt asked rhetorically, as he leant back into one of the trees, "All you ever do is tease me! Not like that's any differe--"

"Uhh…whaddya mean by "tease" then, Fayt?" Cliff asked, interrupting him playfully, planning out his syllables word for word. He collapsed onto the floor. "Ya mean, "tease" like I do, or…"

Fayt, suddenly reddening, kicked at Cliff's legs, irritated. Cliff dodged and rolled again, happily. Fayt found himself looking down on a grown man who was tossing amidst leaves, but not even his eagle-eyes spied the obscure overlapping of fresh green and bitter red leaves. He frowned at Cliff.

Cliff snickered at him, and began gasping for air. "You're…pretty moody for a…skirt chaser!"

Fayt ignored him, shutting his eyes and turning away, trying to avert his blush. He found himself gazing upon the hilltops they had just passed though. A valley cut through the skin of the earth a few kilometres away, the icy stream glittering silently, with each and every few glimpse of sunrays that battled themselves through the clouds playing with the tops of the emerald trees. Coves remained hidden from sight, but Fayt knew they were there, because over the heads of the trees hovered a ring of bats- Alkveins; the people of Peterny had named them. The crust gold colour of the fields make Fayt's stomach stir with hunger…

"Yo…Fayt?" Cliff droned. No response. Cliff picked a rotten berry from the floor, and threw at Fayt's cheek. "Fayt!"

Fayt looked down again suddenly, fractious. "What do you want?!"

"Well…let's have a deal."

"Huh?"

Cliff rose back to his feet, licking his fingers as he looked into those deep eyes, pensive. "Deal…erm…I'll give ya the map, if you tell me about this Asche. Sound fair?"

---

_The love-hate relationship…I never even thought it existed up until now. Cliff's proven me wrong._

_I only read about it when I was still studying symbology because __I had to__. Believe me. The idea of loving someone has never really gripped me…up until now, anyway. Black symbology was always difficult to understand by my standards, but when I read about a magic effected by emotional neutrality, I had no idea that such a complex concept- a concept I can't really relate to, or understand- would take a hold of me some years after turning those first few pages._

_I never stayed within a lecture room for long, anyway, so that doesn't really matter…what matters is; what can you do with the time you have right now? Sure, being a criminal on the run isn't exactly the best way to spend your time, but anything…if anything can save someone, you've got to give it a try…_

The Dragon Brigade swooped elegantly over the boundaries, past the wind-spun flags and then ascended towards the pearl white, full moon, screeching loudly as the strains of leather guided them to the east of the city. Two star-struck guards- lower rank, and with nothing exciting to do, they strolled recklessly along the stony walls, torches alit into tiny sunrises in the navy skies. Tired, and weary, they talked idly as something lurked in the shadows.

"Then Lord Albel is awake, thus?"

"Aye. He didn't wish for us to bother him. He was in town again today. Drinking, I do so believe."

"Surprise, surprise." The taller guard murmured. "Wouldn't be like Lord Albel to serve the day without his daily booze."

"Indeed. This reminds me… our time of duty has passed." The second knight walked confidently past the shadows, the rusted metal clanking rigorously. The taller knight followed. "Is the tavern still open?"

"Aye. Should be." The taller one replied. "…Fancy a drink?"

"Hypocritical today, don't ya think?"

"What's that supposed to mean, shorty?"

The navy skies dripped with jewelled stars, the crystals shining beautifully through the musky fog. The shadows eclipsed like the moonlight, and the stones crusted solid with ice. The two knights wandered away, laughing heartily, whipping off his armour and revealing the dark, ordinary clothing beneath. As they walked away, their footprints scarred, marred and grafted the dusky, sleepy snow. Drags of snow piled silently in the corner and the winds beat frenzied patterns in the snow. The shine of the armour softened, _softened _as hailstones plummeted to the ground…shadows …_moved…_

"Jeez. Well. Getting in isn't going to be a problem." Fayt murmured to himself, creeping out of the shadows and clipping on armour. "Umph! Sure is heavy, though…" He wriggled around, adjusting it. The rust crumbled from the hinges, the cold, red heat hovering to the floor. He slipped on the pair of boots on the side, which coincidently, one of the guards had left behind. They were also two sizes too big for him; but at least that would help cover his tracks when he was on the run...

Fayt shook the snow from his fringe. He stood upright, and his little nose seemed to stick up in the air, with the robe slipping off his shoulders.

He walked forward, and his knees stiffened slightly.

"_Urgh_…it's weird to walk, crouching so much…"

His sword- drawn at hand- cobbled and carved its way into the pebbles blanketed beneath the snow, and his heart fluttered like a bow strings' pull as he reached the tower steps, his soft, worn and bare feet rubbing against the rough skin of the leather. He gritted his teeth, and hid his discomfort with a shy smile whenever a guard passed him. Sure, he was strange; someone as thin as he wasn't usually allowed within the battalion sector, since the armour was so heavy for people like _that_. Fayt felt like he was going to collapse under the weight, (he only managed to keep his struggling under control with the help from a certain Rune) but as he reached the final step, he suddenly felt lighter, fresher even, as the smell of food reached his nose.

His stomach growled.

"Aww, c'mon, not now…" he pleaded to himself quietly. He bolted upright, and walked around busily, his stomach still rumbling as two elderly soldiers overlooked him, intrigued and fascinated. One on the right- a tall, poltergeist figure with tainted, bony hands- and another on the left, who looked slightly younger than his colleague. And in their hands…torn and lustrous, crisp…were some hot steam buns. They seemed to grin as they caught the hunger within Fayt's trapped eyes, and they heartily walked up to him, licking their lips as they approached. He shuddered; he couldn't really tell if they were licking them from taste, or…

"Ya hungry, kid? Ya look like you've worked a thousand hours in a bush."

The man who said this picked at part of his bun, handing it out to Fayt with his musky hands. Fayt's shoulders stiffened slightly; he looked almost like a deer facing a horse filled carriage- scared, curious and shy all at the same time. The words reaching his ears, Fayt's mouth curled into a confused twist.

"_A thousand years in a bush_?" Fayt repeated politely, "What does that mean?" He blinked, and then noticed the red scarf around the elder's neck. _–A captain…-_ "Sir?" He added hastily.

"Ahh," the other man boomed, loudly, "This lad ain't from around here, me thinks…" Fayt took a quick, quiet breath, "…'His here kid musta be from Kirlsa, or something then. I mean, how can a kid not have heard of that saying? See, a little country bumpkin."

They chuckled amongst themselves, and Fayt felt himself redden more and more as the seconds passed by.

"Polite little country bumpkin, mind." The same man scoffed. "Most of those bastards aincha got no manners. Bu-at me? _Sir_? You do me too much honour; you mistake me for that Fittir guy."

Fayt's eyes wriggled upwards, his faint eyelashes catching the heated moonlight. His fingers wriggled nervously as his patient eyes searched through darker, older, omniscient coves. As he exhaled painfully and silently (after all, his chest that has sustained many an injury in the past), his thirst drove him crazy as snowflake after snowflake crisped bitterly on his nose. His stomach then rumbled again- louder than ever before.

The elder soldier held out half of his bun out to Fayt again.

"Go on, lad! Take it."

"I-I can't."

"Don't be so polite. You look like you barely eat. Take it."

"No, no. I-" Fayt stammered softly, but the man interrupted him again.

"It's an _elder's_ duty to make sure the pawns have their correct meals! Who's been stealing your food, eh? That Nox? Bloody bastard…well, I order you to eat." He paused briefly, before standing upright and hammering the base of his spear in the ground. "Order on authority."

Fayt shot an unhappy, fearful glare at the bun, stepping back further into the wall, his heels touching the intended lines. He cowered, the shadows of the two kind shoulders eclipsing over his body. The moon shone heavenly above them, with a distraught face, and the sugared lines on the

He couldn't take it any longer. He darted past the two soldiers, and made his way to the drapery door. The melted snow melted beneath his heated feet, and as he pulled on the handle, the ice clung onto his fingers.

_Crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch…_

"Suits yaself!" He heard one of the soldiers shout after him, whipping behind that mouldy, coliseum door, and…

---

_Cliff POV_

The bar tavern door swung itself open, the hinges screeched like fingernails on blackboard and the harsh blizzard raged through the stone walls, cooling only the nearest pints of beer stiff. Cliff had already been there for some time, slurping away. He had been thinking deeply for the past few minutes; nobody in the room could say why, but as his ice blue eyes skimmed across the rough, wooden surface and met with other peoples' eyes, with his fingers barely grasping the rim of the cup, they'd shake their heads and pretend to look somewhere else.

His surroundings were the usual. Drunken pickpockets chanted and sloshed their beer around merrily in the corner, and off-duty, overworked soldiers jeered and whistled at passing ladies from the pub window. The snowy air gusted heavily around him, and the frost nipped viciously at his shoulders. Cliff sighed. Why did everything, _every single day_, have to be the same, each and every time? Frosty spheres glistening on the side of his glass, he brought it to his lips, and sat there, glaring down the maggoty walls. The bartender turned to him, emotionless and apathetic, and then, as Albel Nox stormed through the door, his eyes shot straight back up.

Albel growled, noticing Cliff and sitting two seats away from him, "Bah. I didn't know _you_ drank poison," he spat. Cliff didn't stir, not even as Albel crooked his head slightly, glaring.

"_You're_ meant to be…"

"Yeah, I know, now get a bloody beer, 'Bel, before I get ya one." Cliff bartered, hushing Albel's nagging, narcotic voice.

"Not until you tell me why you're here, fool!" Albel rumbled quietly, stressing every syllable in his sentence. Cliff groaned.

Cliff said impatiently, "I got my reasons to be here too, ya know."

"A _female_ maggot?"

_Got that right, _Cliff thought drunkenly, his lips cold and suddenly very dry. "Uhh, not really…" he lied.

Albel snorted loudly. "You lie! I saw you before…" But Cliff was obviously too dazed to care about Albel was about to say, so masterfully, he stopped talking, looking for something else to do.

Glaring to the side, Albel chuckled to himself, obviously amused as Cliff slopped to the side. Ordering a drink from the bartender, he swirled on his seat, left leg over his right, and he leaned forwards impatiently, his crooked smile curling into a crescent moon- the common tell-tale signs that The Wicked One was itching for a fight. His blood streaked eyes twitched curiously as his drink was slammed onto the table, and Cliff buried himself deeper into his arms.

Albel sneered. "Looks like _Sir Fool_ can't keep his beverage down. What a pity."

Cliff tilted his head to the side slightly, his ocean blue eyes barely visible. "Huh?" He grunted.

"You're drunk." Albel spat again, disgusted.

Cliff smiled, waving his hands and tapping them on the wooden surface. "Yeah, yeah. Like that's anything different from what you do everyday." (1)

"Silence, worm." Albel glowered, slamming his fist down on the table. The thought of being in a pub with people-_maggots_- clearly upset him.

Everyone froze to the spot for a moment as they watched the scabbard of Albel's katana carefully, seemingly waiting for it to draw, or for his silver talons to claw and swipe…a thief behind them suddenly knocked over his beer glass, and a rat-assed Sophia- whom was seated alongside the other soldiers from before- threw her dart off key, mistaking Albel's multicoloured hair for the dartboard. Missing his hair by the skin of her teeth, Albel's eyes traced the shooting dart, his face a vivid volcano.

"Ahh…a-a-a-ahh!" Sophia spluttered fearfully as Albel's eyes turned to her, the crimson in his eyes reflecting her potential blood, which could be easily shed… not paying attention, Cliff lifted himself up to his beer tiredly, thankful that he wouldn't have to play referee for Albel all night, and even more so for the fact that for once, he wouldn't have to ponder how the hell "Annabel" kept himself warm at night by wearing the same stockings, "skirt-thing" (as Cliff affectionately called it) and tank top every single day. The bubbles in his beer melted away with every squeal that burst through Sophia's mouth, filling his pint even more. He slurped away again, this time the fiery ecstasy ripping and galloping down his throat like racing dragons…the taste twisting every sense in his body... on his lips were pasted a liquid utopia, a passionate paradise…

And just Cliff felt himself drift away into a senseless world of his own; two soldiers burst themselves through the doors.

Their faces were painted red with excitement.

"We've got an intruder!" One breathed hungrily, his old wrinkled face giddy and breathless. "At His Majesty's castle! We have an intruder!"

"Calm down, Gregor—"

"No, it's true! Some _Aquarian_ bastard's got himself through the gates!" Gregory insisted, his pale green tunic contrasting with his fleshy face. The younger one besides him nodded as Cliff arose vigorously (stumbling clumsily to the side a little) and Albel twisted around feverishly, Sophia's neck clamped between his claws.

"We'sa let him through the main gate, and so we's saws 'im. Greg here offered him a bun; the ungrateful bastard would have it, thoughs. Thought he was country bumpkin…" The man thought ponderingly…

A bandit jousted from the corner suddenly. "An' ya did wha' then?"

The younger one shook his head simply, backing away towards the door. "We's cames here, 'o' course…" His voice was plain, simple.

"Blithering fools!" Albel roared, sheaving his katana, his audience gasping in awe as they saw the blade shimmer valiantly from below his elegant waistline- and some cheered as they heard a thump and painful squeak from Lady Sophia, "You mean you!? You came back here!? For help?!"

Gregory shivered nervously. "Uhh…n-n-I mean, yes…"

Albel snarled angrily, dashing his way past the two men and through the door, skidding into the snow, and around the corner within the blink of an eye. Somewhat awakened from his previous drunken state, Cliff shook his head pityingly.

"So…" he started uneasily, "_Who's up for another beer_?"

Everyone groaned, and turned back to their doings. Cliff looked lonely, his mouth jarred open as not even Lady Esteed replied.

"_What_? Nobody wants some?"

In the corner of Cliff's ear, he heard two brief whispers. "Little blue-haired freak…"

"Ya' reckons? I thought it was rather goods lookins' for a little'un…"

And then, Cliff's senseless heaven collapsed around him, the pieces of his mind falling onto the floor into a ragged jigsaw puzzle. Who around him had blue hair in the bar here? No one. Snow pillowed onto the window ledges, the roof tiles above them creaking and dust crept through the cracks as Cliff sat there in a trance.

And then…a familiar face…Cliff's canvas mind was disturbed by those liquid orbs, those electrifying beryl eyes…

Cliff dashed out the door quick; slamming the door behind him shut and turned the corner, facing the castle. His deep, mounded footprints overran slightly smaller prints- which pointed towards the inn-, crossing and overlapping each other. He glared over the walls slightly, looking over to the hospital grounds…

No lights.

Flags were being dragged across the walls by panicked soldiers, their tattled, crimson fibres dripping away against the sapphire, moonlit skies, each cloud skipping playfully along the cold, cobbled stone…breathless shouts of excitement littered the air as each shutter in the nearby houses were slammed shut, without doubt desperate to escape their cries. Melting ice ran from in between each frame, then slivering down each crack in the wood, and some hitting the snow down below. As they hit the snow, ripples of arid dusk flew in contract in the air.

Cradles of snow gulfed like a sweeping reef at his feet, and the gentle glimmers of dust radiated from the night sky. He looked around curiously, tracing the dwindling tracks with his eyes. Large booted footprints had rushed themselves awkwardly inwards towards the pub doors, and then another pair of footprints- slimmer, thinner ones- circled themselves around the entrance, and then arced again as they closed the marble and cobbled stoning towards the castle entrances- _'Bel's footprints, surely, _Cliff thought.

And then…

Strange…tracks traced the floor…

Cliff's eyes flickered shut. –_Hmm…-_ he thought pensively, his eyes catching with small, tattered little rags of blue flaking in with the snow. He'd seen them before…

_He knelt down into the snow, grabbing at the fabric and rubbing it between his fingers…_

A skid mark…almost as though someone had fallen over, pushed over…something like that… _knocked over_ looked more like it…maybe?

A spec of cool blood glimmered dully…

Mirages. It had to be.

In front of the trail, Cliff saw something that most people would overlook…winding thin strands of feathered string flying in contract with the air. It twisted and turned in the wind, fluffing the snow over to one side, creating a small trail of white dusk; like a deep shalom, it shifted sideways down a winding, crystal path. Tremors of whisping clouds fluttered, then melted away slowly…the droplets caught within the corners of the captain's eyes in an oceanic swirl as his mind pondered deeply, crammed with thoughts…

---

_Fayt POV_

_-How could I have been so stupid!?-_

Fayt's chest rattled rapidly with each murmur of his heart as he darted through each and every murky corridor. His eyes crept frantically, searching through each crack in the wall, trying to predict ways out of the dungeons, and his spare hand (the other placed ready at his sword) and as he whipped around one of the corners, his heart once again

-_Oh shit. No way…-_

His terrified eyes met those of three armed soldiers. One grinned heftly, and another had two twin blades hanging horizontally from his sides, each one smiling like a pair of moonlit sickles. The double edged blade of the captain's lance hung only a few metres away from Fayt's neck…

Fayt drew his sword defensively.

"Get 'im!" They cheered heartily, dashing towards him…

And it only took a second to determine what would happen next.

The last thing one of the soldiers saw before collapsing unconscious on the floor was a painted watercolour collage of misted blood foaming between each joint in his eye sockets. The taller guard saw no such thing, but on the other hand, how could he? He couldn't move anything anymore anyway- it was if he was an old plant, the roots of his toes weeding themselves into thick soil. And the man at point guard…

He had seen Aquarian Runology then, if he'd never seen it before. After all, he had seen everything- how that intruder had swung his sword to the side, seen that gushing illusion of wet blood tampering with his wrinkled face, and then the very same feeling of that cool, sharp blade trace around his neck temptingly, almost passionately…Fayt had seen the tiny moment of utopia in the man's eyes and turned the suba of his sword inwards towards his face, crashing towards the man so that only then did his vision return to a dreamy black.

…Fayt didn't like bloodstains all that much, anyway…

He took a spare second to capture his breath again, and giving a generous, pitying look towards the knocked out soldiers, his bit his lips in compensation. Droplets of blood drew. He wiped them away painfully before clambering back into the dungeon's abyss of corridors. The wet moss clung heavily on his feet. He darted away from the bodies, his now emotionless face wiping across every sense of his humanity clear. And to him, with each and every proceeding step, a void clashed within his mine, rippling, an invisible sonata feeding and eating away blindly at his sight.

And there he saw them. As he was running, he saw those two bright deep pools again…the ones he'd almost always seen at night recently. They glistened, brimming with light; even as the moss clinged to his feet, he felt as though he could have _drowned _in those eyes…two angelically-malevolent treasures were clearly visible within the treacherous depths of those eyes. Fayt's eyes alleviated. He remembered those strawberry blonde curls- divine, twisting rollercoasters- bouncing along with her infectious laugh. Those rose blade cheeks. Those milk button lips.

He cobbled over on the stoning on the floor. _–Damnit, not now, not now…-_ He thought angrily, sweeping himself back onto his feet. He scampered forwards a little, dizzy, and footsteps echoed again before him.

He growled quietly, gritting his teeth behind his lips. Blood trickled timidly from a simple graze. His wiped away the blood, his skin tainting his shins. And then he heard the snarl…

---

"So…Asche is this hot chick, huh?" Cliff claimed triumphantly, a bizarre and childish grin plastered on his face. He lay back on the grass again, his bright pink nose sticking up in the air. Fayt looked as though he wanted to smack Cliff; Cliff didn't really seem to care, though… "So. Ya wanna save her from those…uh…wha' was it-?"

"The Nevergate Group. They're not far from-"

"Ah-ha! And so you're off on an adventure to save her!" Cliff interrupted Fayt tactfully.

"Yeah. Adventure. Sure, Cliff. But like I said, I'm not the only person out looking for her…" Fayt replied wistfully, a little annoyed at his interruption, "remember the guy who was with Lady Clair and Lady Nel?" After this, Fayt also lay back on the grass, his eyes glaring emptily at the gathering rain clouds. A tiny spark of light from the masking sun tinted his hair. Fayt paused craftily, waiting for a response from the blond.

Cliff thought quietly for a moment, deep in thought. "The guy…that guy…hmm…little guy, same size as Clair? Looked like her, but with brown hair, and _freaky _eyes?"

Fayt sighed eminently. "Uh…you forget you're talking about some people I know and work with. Some people I _respect_- which they probably have a lack-of for me now, after what you did…"

"Uh. Sorry, kid."

Fayt looked at Cliff, deciding whether or not to give him a good lecture for his insult. He sighed yet again. _Alright, so Arons' eyes are a little…weird. But I'll let him off, this time…_"They're triplets, you knew that, right?"

"Don't'cha mean "twins", kid?" Cliff paced out slowly, noticing Fayt's little "mistake" in his speech.

Fayt shook his head. "No, they're triplets." He replied softly. "Just…kind of figured, since you were a guard of Airyglyph, you would have known about Frey."

Cliff rolled over, facing Fayt. "Frey, huh?"

"Yeah, Frey. Well, you might have known him over in Airyglyph as "Freyjadour Lasbard"- or the "_Rebel Prince_", or whatever you want to call him." Fayt murmured disdainfully, coughing up every word of his as though they were poison. "Who am I to disagree, anyway?" He continued, "He's the leader of one of Aquaria's liberal armies against Xenia, Greenton, The Nevergate Group…he's…a bit like Clair. Well, he looks like her, and acts like her too, just…"

"Hot, like Clair? Cliff said with a grin, and Fayt whipped his head around at him, furious. "Joke! Joke!" he exclaimed.

_Ignore! Ignore!_ Fayt repeated this to himself inside his head, before opening his mouth again to speak. "Well, he's supposed to be meeting with remnants of his army sometime- _now, I guess_, but it's by that river over there." Fayt pointed downhill at the crystal river. "He hasn't come yet, though, obviously."

Cliff stomped up onto his feet, gallantly. He looked excited, and his smile broke out of his face like the sun. "Ah, so he's a Prince, then? Like royalty? That's gotta mean that Clair and that other person are royalty too, even Adray!"

Cliff's eyes met with Fayt's for as moment, and then Fayt turned, shaking his head. "That's…a popular _misconception_, to say the least. I'm not even sure why they even call him a "Prince", but he's just as normal as Clair." Fayt turned again, smiling. "Least, I know he doesn't think of himself that way…Adray's family may be high-ranking nobility, but…"

The reeves behind the trees creaked unnaturally. Fayt's eyes cornered behind him curiously, and then shaking his head, he turned to face the river again. _Must be my imagination…_

Cliff clutched his knees close to his chest like a little kid, his hands pawing over the caps of his knees, as if he were climbing over a mountain. The shadow of the tree flickered to the right slightly, and the sun creamed its way through the grassy blades. Fayt, on the other hand, looked optimistically around him, smiling to himself happily as the thick, countryside breeze pounded coldly against his face. His fuchsia locks caught themselves in front of his face.

The crystalline river glimmered eternally, and Cliff's fingers twitched dramatically as a bird scampered over their heads. Feathers flung themselves around, and scattered above them as it swooped down towards the copper canyon. A feather landed gracefully on Fayt's scalp, unnoticeable, and Cliff's eyes soon became transfixed…

"Fayt?"

Fayt whipped around. "What is it?"

Cliff pointed, his ocean eyes squinting. "You got-"

"I've got what?" Fayt asked curiously, his head tilting to the side. Still the feather did not move.

Cliff smirked cleverly, and he leant in. He carefully flicked the feather off of Fayt's face. Looking shocked, Fayt turned his head away, hiding yet again behind his fringe. Fluttering away, Cliff caught the feather elegantly between his middle and pointing fingers. The feather didn't even break.

"Aww, c'mon _Hiawatha_! Give me a smile!" Cliff beamed his super-sexy grin illuminating.

The corner of Fayt's mouth quivered shyly for a second, and nearly formed a smirk. But as he turned around, his face was straight again. His cheeks formed a deep, sculptured cerise, but other than that, Fayt was normal.

"Who you calling Hiawatha!" He growled. "…Hey, wait a second! How do you even know that name?"

"Secret." Cliff chimed. -_That metal thing he had…kinda funky, now I think it…-_

The stars soon began to emerge through the rainbow skies, and within minutes, the sun rinsed and crawled down the musky mountains, their volcanic steaks mixing in perfectly with the watercolour light. The setting confused itself with the viridian stretch of wild grass cutting down the centre of the picture, and the copper, golden harvest shimmered silently in the sunlight, the crisp crystals of lukewarm, lustrous river twisting their sapphire jewels within the tints of the dusk. Fayt was quietly reminded of the scenes of those plays, by silly romanticists, when he looked. It was a perfect dream, a perfect harmony; but too far from a reality to be true. Cliff looked awe inspired as the sunset began to sleep in the beds of an ocean line, some miles behind the mountains. He'd never seen such colour…nor had he ever seen such beauty.

But Fayt, turned again, curious at the tiger-striped grass behind them.

_-A shadow_… -Fayt pondered, as a growing stealth started to loom over them,-_that…isn't a monster, that's for sure…_Quiet, padded footsteps tip-toed ever closer, and Fayt became more, and more frigid. Cliff remained still, not noticing much. _Nethergate spies? Could it be?_

A tint of an orange flared in Fayt's eye. He turned, drawing his sword from his scabbard and thrusting it upwards. Cliff suddenly jumped. The sound of metal had been so loud, even the leaves above them started to quake- the sounds were ripping in Cliff's ears like wind on water, chaotically.

But then…the sound faded away, buzzing quietly like a bee. There was no other sound, except a weak, awkward shuffle.

"I see…that you're no different than before…always on your guard. Impressive. Good to see how much you've improved since we last met, I suppose." The figure complimented simply.

Cliff turned around angrily, his fists tightly clenched and anticipating some sort of fight. But then he froze at the sight. He saw the attacker more than he even saw Fayt. The figure had pure, snow-white hair with a long, bundled braid down the side, with watery, soft, turquoise eyes and a small, dainty little nose. He wore lightweight, crimson armour, and a thin ginger masking scarf around his neck, and his feet were so tiny that to one extent Cliff was reminded of a wild fox. His hair looked as soft as owl feathers, and he crouched (2) defensively in his fighting position.

Cliff was confused. A strange looking spy, if that's what it could be called.

Fayt, on the other hand, didn't look so confused. "…Frey? Is that you?"

The figure smiled coyly, and with one hand, he tugged at his braid. "…Well, I'm not Aron, that's for sure, Fayt."

Fayt twisted his head. "Hmm…not unless you've got a really good wig, _Aron_."

"But I'm not—"

"Hey! Hey!" Cliff shouted, feeling left out. "What's going on? And-An'- - who the HELL are ya?!" Cliff eyes began to squint suspiciously at this "Frey" person, who stared blankly back at Cliff. _–Something's up here…-_ Cliff turned back to Fayt, his eyebrows raised. "Alright, give up the jig you two. Who is this?"

Fayt drew his sword away rapidly, and the figure folded away- _wait, folded? -_ away his nunchukus. Fayt then nudged the other person, smirking a little a Cliff, and the other figure still looked bemused. "Erm…Cliff here doesn't know who you are. _Apparently._ And he was a soldier of Airyglyph as well…"

"H-hey! Ya doubting me, kid?! You picked me up, reme-!"

But before he could speak again, the figure knelt down before Cliff bizarrely, its head hung down low and its eyes scouring the floor. "You are Cliff Fittir, ex-Captain of the Dragon Brigade and an honourable Sire, right?"

"Erm…yeah, that's me." Cliff stuttered. _–Whoa, that person called me a Sire…-_ A pheromone of excitement pulsed through Cliff's veins at the mention of his previous title; it made him feel so proud.

Those turquoise eyes flew up in contact with Cliff's eyes honestly, then shook his head. "I finally get to meet you, at last. I'm Kaiser Lazlo Freyjadour Lasbard- Frey, for short..." He extended his hand, preparing to shake. "I'm sorry about…about what just happened, I mean, I just like scaring Fayt here, I guess."

Cliff eyed his hand wearily, and then caught the sight of his long braids. His blood red circlet was clamped around his forehead. "You Frey? That "Prince" Frey?" Cliff scoffed. "Huh! You look more of a _princess_ to me."

Fayt stepped in violently, glowering at Cliff as Frey wavered back a little, surprised.

"H-huh…?"

"CLIFF!" Fayt bellowed loudly, slapping him over the head. Cliff twisted awkwardly, his face innocent, and Fayt tutted loudly. "I can't believe you sometimes…"

"Uh- Fayt? Can't you see the long hair! Only hot babes have-"

"No Cliff, don't start me--"

"But they do!" Cliff insisted bravely, not seeing the _dangerous _fire in Fayt's eyes. Frey hadn't moved much, but a tiny spray of pink glistened at the bottom of his cheeks, and his white mop half covered his eyes. Despite Fayt's claims, Cliff wasn't convinced.

"Listen, Cliff. I told you. Clair, Aron and Frey _are triplets!_ Triplets _look alike!"_

Frustration paced through Cliff's veins, and Cliff carried on his teasing. A blink of moonlight crept out through the clouds. "Yeah, but his hair is-!"

"Cliff, I'm gonna say this," Fayt cautioned steadily, "you might _provoke_ someone if you carry on…" This silenced Cliff for a moment, as he stood, bewildered at the comment. And as Fayt indicated to Frey's clentched right hand, Cliff cottoned on. He snorted unhappily, staring Frey down, even as he rose to his feet.

"A-anyway..." Frey began shyly.

"What is it?" Fayt intervened, curiously, opening his mouth to speak.

Cliff tactfully interruped them again, "Hey, aren't we on our way to Parch or somethin', Fayt?! Why's this _little problem_ here?"

"Urm, that's why I'm here...the main roads into the area are blocked by Airyglyphian soldiers..." Frey replied bizzarely, his little face confused.

"What?!" Fayt exlaimed.

Cliff scratched his head angrily. He was still feeling...suspicious. _- I smell a rat, here...-_ "That still doesn't explain why you're here, kid. Spill."

Fayt eyes traced curiously onto Frey, monitoring his movements like a hawk. He stepped out of the brush, the wrinkled leaves crumpling beneath his feet his back turned to the other two. He breathed calmly as the crashes of the river below slowly slushed away dreamily in their ears, making Cliff nearly fall into slumber.

"Fayt. As you know, you got accused of being an "assassin", correct?" Fayt nodded at this, and spotting his nod in the corner of his eye, Frey continued. "It seems the very same people who captured Asche- and diverted their running murders to you- are from the Nevergate Group, as I expected." He turned his head around in response, and a cheeky smile errupted on his face. "You, however, Cliff, I've heard much about. My brother was telling me about that little "mix up" you had in Peterny; he seems to _like you_." He teased gently.

"Bah. I've heard enough of this." Cliff grumped. He marched off behind the tree near the emerald brush, and began setting up camp. He rolled up an orange flame, and sat by it, trying to keep warm. The air had suddenly grown bitter, and a tinge of fog was radiating as the sun descended closer to the earth. He wrapped himself close to the fire, wanting to be alone.

Fayt turned to Frey, knowingly. "Congratulations. You diverted Cliff's attention. I'm impressed."

Frey sat himself on the dusky earth, leaning against the tree. "I know, I know," he replied quietly, "I didn't mean it."

Fayt smiled roguishly. "It's...just funny what he did to Aron, really."

And Frey nodded. "Nah. He deserved it, really, I mean-"

"Yo, Fayt, _Princess_!" Cliff bellowed. "Ya eating?"

---

**Bad Chapter Ending Syndrome! **To be continued...

**Zels Notes:** Since last time I was on this page, I didn't really have the time to do my notes properly, I'll do them now :D Hoo, this took a while. By the way, the last five lines are very deliberate...it looks bad anyway, but I did it on purpose. Ohh, Cliff, you're getting it now! First you're causing a twist between Fayt and the ladies, and now it seems you had an "incident" with someone. Were you that drunk?! Again, poor Fayt for getting you out, huh? -Huggles Cliff and Fayt! And then pats poor Frey on the back for his terrible emotional pain at being called a "Princess".- Oh, I've only introduced you Frey for one chapter, and you're already sticking in my mind...

Who did I like writing about this time round, though? _Albel_! Oh man, you were fun to write. Kill Sophia! Kill her:o He may have made a minor appearance, but he's rather important... :D

What the hell, Fayt's not gay? Who's this Asche?! -Fangirl swipes!- Thieving so-and-so. I've only just realised that her name reminises "Ashe" from Final Fantasy 12, but they're not alike. Anyway, we'll see more of her soon...and we'll be able to throw stuff at her too. In a mini-game! Like the coin games in FFX-2 (I kid, sadly!)

I've got three endings up my sleeve for this fanfiction, and though they're not gonna come for a while, I've figured more sad endings than happy ones. Is that my suicidal and depressive tendencies appearing? I hope not. But the pace is a little slow in this fic, I know. All part of the tentive process, I assure you all

Love,

Zel xxx

(1)- Evidence: In the Japanese, unscanlated versions of the manga, you can see some of the clipboard of Albel…and he is almost ALWAYS drinking. Or he can be found in a local tavern. Cliff and Fayt usually join him soon after, but there's always two chairs between Cliff and Albel…or Fayt sits in-between them, a little distressed…

(2) Why is there a number here? This is my second posting, and I thought I'd share a little dirty mistake I left here when I first updated...I wrote "crotched" rather than "crouched"- easy enough mistake, but it was actually kinda funny :D If anyone noticed this when they first read it, tell me :D I'll find it quite amusing...


	4. Chapter 3: Alle Sunden in Eine Munden

**Disclaimers: **If owned Star Ocean 3, I did, skipping up and down the road everyday, I would be. But, alas, Star Ocean 3 I own not.

Alright, off with the Yoda impressionisms! Ownership of all characters (excluding Frey, Asche and Aron) belong to Square Enix.

**Warnings: **Swearing, bad cooking, nakedness of the you-know-who, namings of "down-below", spiritual horror, jealousy, very faint CliffxFayt…did I mention jealousy?! XD

**Plot Theosis:** After a travesty of delicacies gone wrong and teasing, it's needless to say that Cliff is in a foul mood. However, is storming off into the forest going to prove bad luck, or rather, is it a blessing in disguise? After all, who knows what lurks in the heart of this place?

**Author Notes:** Well, I've got nothing in particular I want to say… other than I'm peeved off at how long it's taken me to post this up. This was done before Christmas, and I was too lazy to post it up. :D Fayt is OOC again, and Cliff is a bit, too. I insult Cliff's intelligence at one point this chapter…but I swear; he's an intelligent guy!

**Shoutouts! **

4quintessence: Hehe! Don't worry, your hunger will be satified…eventually! Yes, I'm evil, but that's no change, right? Gah, cut off paragraphs : ( ! It had to happen at one point though, I suppose. Thanks so much for pointing that out to me :D In answer about the footprints…remember when "Mirage" got knocked over by good-old-'Bel? They're the same footprints Cliff sees…then follows! Loving my silly typos in my last chapter ("crotch"! XD) In fact, I think my last chapter was so bad that I do find it funny- Zeliferously speaking, of course. I think I love your word inventions here!

Anyway, shortened this down from what it was, but it's still kinda long. I'll work on shortening again… ;D

**AlchemistM, IcyPirateChic, supX: **Hope you three enjoy this, too :D

* * *

**Chapter 3- _Alle Sünden in eine münden _**

_**(All The Sins Flow into One)**_

The fire rustled away quietly onto the jaded leaves, the crisp twigs dying away under the pyre as slabs of luscious meat hung delicately over the busting flames. The river at the foot of the hill glistened in diamante. Cliff grinned proudly at his work, marvelling the sculpture, the artistic flare of bloodied strips of furry rat meat. He then began grinding some berries into as bruised pus, the liquid oozing slowly as cold bubble after cold bubble satiated itself from the sauce. A few seconds later, his work was "complete", and the soggy smell of rotten cheese began to rogue itself through the air, even Fayt began to look sick.

Cliff cheerfully handed his work to Fayt on a dirty piece of bark, utterly proud of himself and his work.

"Here ya go!"

Fayt eyed the plate frightfully, and looked up and down edgily over each of his shoulders. "Damnit, uh…" he muttered quietly to himself, and he began gazing emptily into the rough wood, avoiding the sight of the food itself. "Urm, I'm not hungry, Cliff. Maybe tomorrow." He promised inanely, attempting to hand back the plate to Cliff, trying his best to fight back his imposing urge to throw it. As the plank of wood dangled temptingly towards Cliff, he grabbed Fayt's wrists, and flicked them away.

He winked playfully. "C'mon! Since when do you eat anything?"

"B-but," Fayt argued weakly, starting to shake. He turned rapidly to Frey, who had been watching the river intently. "Frey. Frey, you're hungry, right?"

Frey turned slightly, his eyes inattentive. "…uh?" He mumbled faintly, his ruby circlet conceding willingly to the moonlight as he seemed to ponder about the conversation he had missed. But then his eyes met with Cliff's food, and he gulped feverishly. "Oh! Uh…no thanks, Fayt. Cliff's right. _You _eat it."

Cliff snorted, jolting his head at Frey, his electric locks static as they flew in the air. Frey eyed the floor immediately, breaking the eye contact as naval eyes devoured him.

"Huh! Like I'd spare you anything in the first place, you albino rat!" Cliff glimmered at the two of them, ultimately sensing their reluctance to try his food. "Argh, who cares?" He grumped loudly, snatching his plate away from Fayt. Then, angry at the insult of nobody wanting to try his food, he threw the meat at the floor. Blood seeped from the pink flesh. "As if I could cook…" he muttered sulkily.

"Cliff…" Fayt began, taking in a deep breath, his fingers twitching anxiously. "I'm just not--"

"Whatever," Cliff garbled loudly, "I'm going down the river. An' I wanna be _alone _this time round. So don't _spy _on me this time, kid!"

-_Spy on him? What is he talking about? - __"_Since when have I ever "spied" on you?" Fayt bellowed, throwing icy cold daggers into Cliff's back.

"Uhh, should I answer that…?"

"…Go. Just go."

Cliff didn't hesitate in obeying. As Cliff disappeared over the hill, Fayt turned. "He sure is vein."

Frey, who hadn't really been paying much attention, had been picking away at the berry sauce out of curiosity, dunking away at the substance and had been licking it away with his small fingers. For one second, he couldn't seem to decide whether or not he liked it, but as his tips reached the sauce again, submerged his fingers within his lips one more time, rubbing his lips together quietly, he seemed to have made up his mind. "This isn't bad, you know. Try it."

"You know I don't eat--" Fayt started uneasily

"It's not _food, _Fayt. It's just sauce, there's nothing in it." Frey interrupted. "Cliff's right; no wonder he made a meal for you. Look at you, you're skinnier than that Albel."

"How can you be sure? …You realise he's gonna kill you for you for touching his food, right?"

"…Mon't make hicscuses Mate…" He muffled, his finger still lost in his tiny, triangular lips. _Don't make excuses, Fayt._ He popped his finger out of his mouth and turned his head. "…We can't let _them _get to us. We're just as human as they are". Right?"

"…I'll remember that next time I act as your spokesperson in public. You won't even talk to your family."

"I suppose that's…fair?" Frey pouted sourly. "Anyway. You know he reminds me of? Reminds me of Aron. No wonder they didn't get on."

A pause alleviated in the air as Fayt simmered at Frey threateningly. Frey spotted this, and realizing his mistake, he continued. "Mind you, I-, I mean, he must have been asking for it. I mean, provoking Cliff like that must have taken some sort of insult, really. He seems so… _laidback_." He stopped, and gaining an accepting nod from Fayt, he breathed in some air. "People like him are the reason this war between Aquaria and Airyglyph…is essentially just some excuse for a political blood bath…" The corner of Frey's mouth twisted bitterly, as if a sour taste was quaking through his palate.

Fayt rose, his hair mopping to the side, the locks knitting themselves cozily on the bed of his hairline. He stood there, staring down at his friend, confused. "You praise him, yet he _insulted_ you?"

A crescent smile corrupted the younger ones' face. "I know," he spoke quietly, "he just doesn't trust me yet, that's all."

"…So…any news on Aquios and Parch?"

"Not any I haven't told you already…_by the way_…" Frey began, precautious.

Fayt turned his head. "What is it?"

"…If I were you, I wouldn't get embarrassed so often around Cliff right now…not sure you've noticed- maybe he hasn't, actually, either- but…er…each time you get a bit flustered, your…_hair_…" Frey coughed suddenly, trying to disguise his aberrant outburst, but then he couldn't help himself and was slowly consumed by the infectious disease of laughter. He rolled forward clutching his stomach, and tears rolled from his eyes.

Fayt's eyes tinged with mixed curiosity, and a flame of anger; at times, Frey was more childish than Cliff. _-If that__'__s at all possible- _Fayt compromised. His cheeks began to tint rose out of anger, and…

"Jeez, Frey. Lay off the teasing...what are you laughing for, anyway! Tell me! What?" Fayt barked impatiently.

His ivory white face turned from beneath his body's shell as he managed to somehow compose himself and calm his laughter…but then when he looked at Fayt again, he laughed harder.

Fayt stomped onto his feet moodily, kicking everything up into the air. He was thrown a flask of water. "Look." Frey struggled between his giggles.

And there he saw them. Deep stems and vines of fuchsia were entwined between his gorgeous blue locks.

"_What the hell!?__"_ Fayt bellowed.

Frey could have died laughing.

* * *

A few moments later, the river had been graced with a spectacular sighting; Cliff was naked and bathing.

Wading through the waters, the cold breath of gentle waves were smacking against his skin as the ripples broke away from his body. Cliff ran his hand through his hear confidently, and then rolled back onto the water, floating aimlessly as his eyes matched with the midnight stars, his thoughts twinkling away as he tried to count each and every dot in that sky, his hands flapping in and out of the water, and patterns crypting from each and every single movement from that hand.

A brief wind quietly began to thistle on his chest and between his legs; then a gust of air panted its way through Cliff's lips as he sighed loudly, contently, and his feet touched the long, soft thistles from the river bed. Every sound of every trickle, every movement dreamt and slept skittishly on little waves, swinging towards the centre of the lake; and Cliff rolled back onto the water, floating and bobbing away, deep in thought.

_-What the hell…- _Cliff scrunched his nose tightly. His toes flicked open and shut rapidly in pace with his eyes. "Damn it." No matter how he tried to get around it, Cliff just couldn't help feeling a little jealous.

Fish swerved sharply in the water. Their fins tickled against his feet…-_Parch, huh. Why are we off to Parch, anyway…? What do we need to do there?-_ One of the fishes' silver gills slurped and died away as it swam upstream into the tiny falls. Cliff huffed. _–__This don__'__t make sense…-_

Everything in the water seemed to chill his body, except his buzzing mind. Strips of the rippling water seemed to catch itself on the breeze, and the rings dipped and separated into crescent curves, imitating _his_ deific little grin. Cliff smiled, and started humming to himself. A rock traced curiously down Cliff's back, and a shiver shot straight up his spine.

Then a flicker of light pulsed in the corner of his eye. Light, painted droplets of blue smudged his sight, but feeling the water wash his skin, he thought nothing of it.

He rolled onto his stomach, dunking his head below the water. His face felt refreshed and clean, and his hair frayed and flopped out at angles. His feet gravitated down to the floor, skimming across the rocks. He felt his abdomen contract as he saw the pinky flesh in his eye, and just floated, lightly. _–__That__'__s about right…- _Cliff thought dreamily _–__This is the life-_

He felt bubble pop all round him; everything felt strangely warm. _–__ Huh? I haven__'__t…er…passed wind or anything, have I? Why__'__s everything so warm?__"_

And there he saw it. A vivid crest of obscure, bouncing light crawled its way past the water's surface, beaming brightly into Cliff's eyes. The pain in his eyes…was excruciating, the spots in his eyes…were dancing in ridicule at him. He felt the water snap moodily with each rivet of his mind, with each and every circle that paced itself through his thoughts, each idea tailing another.

His face scrunched tightly and he throbbed and turned. He could no longer hear the splashing of the water, or hear the scuffling of the pebbles as he traced his toes over the sea green weeds. _-Am I going…deaf or something?!-_

His fighting spirit high, Cliff snapped his eyes open, staring down his chest at first and the fixing his head straight.

What he saw surprised him.

Where were the…where was the…everything was gone! No forest leaves, no trees, the waterfall back down stream had disappeared…he could feel water round his ankles, but there was nothing there but complete, unsatifisfying darkness. A feeling of unease swept across Cliff. Was he dead? What the hell happened?

_-…Damn it, I can't think of him now…- _Cliff thought. _-Truth be it, I'm scared…Damnit, Fayt…-_

White noise suddenly corroded his ears; which served as a reminder that he hadn't actually died yet. Rising up from the water and covering his ears with his hands, he screamed emptily.

A hiss. Cliff's eyes snapped open.

There in front of him…was the impossible. _-Holy crap! What the HELL is that thing?- _Whether it was a thing it could have been called, or a thing it could have been perceived, all Cliff knew was that the thing in front of him was huge, was shaped a lot like a water dragon, and possibly looked hungry. His left hand felt unbelievably warm…almost as though he'd burnt it in a fire. From the dragon's teeth dripped water fangs…and on it's tail rippled a rattle…almost like an anaconda, the dragon coiled itself rapidly, twisting and turning closer into Cliff.

Its head snapped. It turned. Cliff's left hand suddenly ripped free from his skull, and his ears pulsed with noise. Cliff yelled profusely, and tried pulling it back, but like metal to a magnet, his hand seemed to pull ever closer to the creature.

…And all to quickly, the dragon diminished in size. The burning noise in Cliff's ears transformed into a voice. _"You'll do fine."_ It said.

With that, the little dragon shredded itself into ribbons, and each band of the body rushed itself into…rushed itself into Cliff's hand.

"_No!" _Cliff wailed, grappling his wrist. "Argh…"

The pain in his hand erupted and evolved quickly, and mist began to pulse from his fingers as he felt entirely wet and dry, and warm and cold, all at the same time. His nails felt like they were going to burst so badly from both calamity and rage that the skin under his nails were turning a vivid purple. He felt the water gush away and boil in towards his hands….

And then…it stopped.

Light stripped away the scene, and soon, he heard the sounds of everything, and saw everything, all over again. He stood upright in the stream. He looked down, and then laughed.

_-Phew…least you're still there, Little Cliff!- _He grinned. Cliff had still retained the childish, common habit of giving his manhood a name…despite being thirty-six. "Little Cliff" was enlarged and looked slightly happy…it flopped inwards as Big Cliff stood upright suddenly, proud of himself.

"Heh! Dragons, giant tortoises, _albino rats_; no sweat!" He boomed into the woods. His smile was curved upwards so high, no man or woman could break or beat it.

_

* * *

_

Cliff returned up to the camp place a few minutes later.

"What the hell happened to you?!" Fayt bellowed. "Frey and I went to look for you; you've been gone over _two hours_!"

"Two hours?" Cliff cried ludicrously. "No, wait- I've been gone two hours?"

"Yes," Fayt snapped, hot tempered.

"Fayt," Frey murmured, tired. "Remember…keep your cool…"

Fayt blushed pink…almost as pink as the streaks of pink that were slowly forming in the shadows. He bit his tongue slowly, and then spotting Cliff sparring a game of dirty, jealous looks at Frey, Fayt sighed loudly. "I can't do with you two this early in the morning!" He drawled, almost like a mother, "Can't you not fight for once?"

Frey rolled to the right, yawning sleepily. "I…I wasn't, augh…fighting. In fact, I think Cliff's quite an amiable guy."

Cliff, for once, softened. "Oh…right. Thanks."

Frey smiled, and rolled back over to the other side. "Despite being a philanderer..."

Cliff's supersonic hearing heard him. "Uh…yeah. Okay."

He turned to Fayt rapidly.

"Uh, Fayt? Can I ask you something?"

Fayt shifted closer to the shadows, being careful not to show the slowly visible pink strands of hair…"Yeah?"

"What's a philanderer? Is it something you eat?!" (1)

Fayt's expression soon erupted into laughter. "Erm, no. I don't think it's something you'd want to _eat, _Cliff."

"A philanderer…" Frey called tiredly, "…is a guy who consistently plays around with women- or men, if he's…well, you understand me."

"So in other words," Fayt joined in playfully, "Cliff."

Cliff blushed red with frustration. "…It ain't fun at all when you put it like that, is it?"

* * *

"Uh? I thought we said we were going to wait for that "army" of yours?"

"…Something's happened. I woke up on night duty and-"

"Fayt, why aren't we waiting for the army."

"Frey was telling you. Anyway, service hasn't gone through. Something's happened."

"Then…where are off to, then Fayt?"

"…Frey, if you don't mind…we go to Arias, instead."

"…F-fine with me."

"…Better, you know, stock up on plenty of philanders before we go, hadn't we?"

"That's enough of that! You say that again, Fayt, and I swear---!"

* * *

--Down a dusky path the trio walked. The three had been walking for over four hours, with Fayt often picking blue and black berries from the sides of bushes, Cliff drawing water from the banks, and Frey marking each tree he passed with a cross. As well as this, Fayt's ears became used to the constant upstream of bickering that was exchanged between his two companions.

"Well, you can say _that_!" Frey exclaimed at one point, "But at least I walk straight, and not _bent_."

"Huh! That all you got?" Cliff barked, kicking the leaves beneath his feet. "Guy with the pony tail."

"It's a _braid_." The other one said hotly. "Anyway, _you _were the one who said it was "hot", if I remember correctly!"

"Yeah. Hot for _chicks._" Cliff winked, throwing another ball.

"…I wear it for a reason, actually…" Frey murmured, and dodged. He grinned childishly, and packing two open twigs into his ammunition, he launched it over his shoulder. The mud dripped sloppily over Cliff's face. "Opps; sorry, Cliff!"

"Why, you!"

Fayt had shouted many things to them to try and keep them down. Asking them to act their age and not their shoe sizes simply didn't seem to be enough, and when he asked them- with idea of psychology-reverse in mind- to be loud, they were even louder still.

Fayt snapped as one of the mud balls, intended for Frey, hit him.

"ALRIGHT, that's it, I've had it!" He snapped, but then suddenly withered away as wondered whether or not Cliff's food from yesterday still might be in effect. He reached for his hair to check. He tried to see.

But then an improvident mist scoured the air, nothing could be seen. Fayt breathed calmly and tried casting symbology, but even those roaring flames died away. Cliff stomped away forward, pushing away the obscured branches, Fayt dodged and weaves against the wheezing sounds, and Frey walked straight forward, letting the branches lash out onto his face.

"Great," Fayt muttered sarcastically. "What should we do now?"

Cliff patted his shoulder from behind, and Fayt felt Cliff's warmth pump away any cold that tinged his body. He felt the man's caressing breath on his neck, and soon everything felt fine again.

He heard shuffling from behind, and a small whisp of movement from afar. A warm shiver crept up everyone's spine. Soon, even the moon's light dissipated.

"Shit!" Cliff exclaimed loudly. A sense of fear was toned in his voice. "What the hell---"

"Umph!"

The snapping of twigs and rustling of footsteps waved in the air, and soon something heavy could be heard dragging across the floor. A whoosh of whistling wood battled against the air abruptly, and then followed the clang of metal on the floor. The trio became a duo. Fayt and Cliff snapped their necks backwards, and felt out into the empty darkness where Frey had been.

Nothing.

Nothing but plain air.

Fayt's hands reached for the floor and met with the familiar touch of metal. Fayt picked up the nunchukus, and then twisted awkwardly, panicked. "Cliff! _Cliff_! _Where__'__s Frey?!__"_He repeatedly tried to cast symbology, again and again, and each time he did, the ashes flickered away. Cliff felt Fayt's hand beating though the air like birds wings. "Cliff! Where are you?!"

"Behind you, kid!" Cliff responded.

"Stick with me!" Fayt muttered. Sensing Cliff behind him, he grasped his hand tightly. He dragged him forwards and further into the darkness, running in unity…

Fayt puffed loudly. "Don't stop running," and even in the purest darkness, Fayt's eyes gleamed a scared shade, "don't stop. If we do, they'll catch us!"

Cliff's mind pulsed wilder than his footsteps. "But wha—"

Fayt galloped faster. "We'll find him! But if we don't keep running, _they__'__ll catch us_!" He repeated, frenzied.

"_**Who'll catch us?"**_ Cliff bellowed, confused.

"To the left! …C'mon, Cliff, hurry!"

Agonised screams littered the air to the right of them as they swerved to the left; they turned again, darting forwards, nearly tripping over their own two feet. Suddenly, Cliff felt the grip on his hand tighten ever more, and ,something seemed to drip from his hand like water. Cliff's heart was being smothered by each and every step he took, his feet trying desperately not to fall onto the younger one in front of him.

A yelp commenced again, though louder and longer than ever before; Fayt, hearing the crackling leaves beneath his feet, lifted up their clasping palms instinctively. For a moment, the two felt a deep swelling in their palms, bodily energy flowing through their palms and in their blood. The chasing flows of opposing symbology were fighting alongside each other as their long fingers kissed and grappled at fresh skin. Cliff's hand glowed with a cool blue, and Fayt's emanated a pulsing sea colour…and then their hands suddenly collapsed with heat, and a cradle of ethereal light began to escape, and bind up their arms…Fayt looked down…

"W-what the--!?" Fayt exclaimed, shocked. "Cliff! You bear an Orb, too? Since when?"

"A what? I dunno wh-"

"Heads up! Fayt bellowed. He pulled the two arms straight. A violet, crystallised form of light pulsed vibrantly into a perfectly symmetrical oval. It blasted itself into the nightly skies, radiating like a neutron star, and then shot forwards like a bullet. The orb burst in front of a large tree, and they both skipped to the side.

"What the hell what that!" Cliff leapt forwards, still trotting. "Did you see that, Fayt? What just happened there?!"

"Just keep- Argh!"

"Whoa!"

The two tumbled forwards, landing awkwardly on each other's laps. They groaned as everything below the chest suddenly felt so _numb and sore._ Cliff rubbed his eyes open, and found himself towering over Fayt's body, hips locked together…

Cliff rushed onto his feet, blushing beetroot red. "Uh, sorry kid!"

The younger one blushed equally, and frowned. He wriggled onto his feet. "It's aright-what's that sound?"

Cliff pretended to ignore the comment, rubbing his head. _–__Yeah, what is that sound?- _"And what the hell did we just fall over? Was more than a log, that I know!"

Something rumbled angrily beneath them, like a dog. "Me, you _fuckers.__"_

A plethora of unsaintly darkness still mystified their eyes. Fayt drew out his sword from his scabbart instinctively, and Cliff jumped back, clenching his brass fists.

"Who's there?" Cliff called, his voice playing through the darkness. It seemed to echo on without a limit, as if the space around them was endless.

It was then that Cliff noticed that all the screaming before had stopped. _–__What the hell?-_

A little dawn light burst through the temples of the creatures skull, each beam soaking through into Cliff and Fayt's eyes…they saw them, as the creature sat huddled in a tense position, it's knees held close to it's chest. Cliff peeked around and saw those twinkling little oceanic eyes blinking sadly. Cliff clambered forwards. _–__I may not like the rat…-_ he compromised,_ -but he__'__s hurt…might as well...-_

Fayt staggered forward, pulling and grabbing Cliff from behind, tugging his shoulder. His face was littered with fear.

"Cliff! _NO_!"

Cliff suddenly slipped out of his grasp and lunged forwards. He touched Frey's stiff little body, and…

"_**No!**__**"**_Deep words pulsed from Frey's small triangular mouth. Cliff swiftly staggered back as Frey's voice seemed no longer his own. It was a deathly sound; dark and more masculine; no longer frail, but more… "Don't you _dare_ touch me, you bastard!" He growled clustered. He shot up threateningly, his tiny body towering mentally over everyone else. It was almost as though someone had thrown oil all over Freys' personality and set it alight. And his little, innocent turquoise eyes burned _murderously_.

Cliff and Fayt's hearts nearly jumped out of their bodies.

Frey spotted Fayt's sword dangling to the right. He lunged for him. Fayt dodged to the side, and Cliff threw a heavy punch…and missed only by degrees. Skidding on the floor, Frey looked up at Fayt bizzarely, staggering neo-drunkenly, and slurred loud. His spurted tall, and stood erect.

"You! I know you…" The ghostly voice within his body spat, croaking slowly and monstrously. "**You**! _**Piss off! Go to hell**_!- Ahhh!"

Dust drifted into the air as Frey's tiny body fell heavily onto the dusky floor. He twisted and turned, writhing in pain, screaming abruptly and clawing at his ashen hair; looking almost as if he was about to rip out every strand there was. His breathing sloped. Fayt pinned him to the floor, and fought to keep him still; Cliff ripped the scarf from his neck and placed it behind his thrashing head.

"No…_no…__"_Frey sobbed, still unconscious. He seemed to have adopted a more feminine voice this time round. "No…let go…_please_." Tears dripped from his eyes involuntarily.

"He's not himself," Fayt stated. "I'll keep him still..."

"You sure you wanna do that? What about who we were running from, anyway?" Cliff asked. Baffled and confused, Cliff piled the orange material on the floor, lumpy waves foaming from the material. He smoothed out the creases instinctively.

"Don't worry about that; they're gone." And Fayt placed him down on the floor.

"Just like that?!"

"Yeah." Fayt replied coldly.

The little one calmed, and his face was deathly white. Some seconds later, he stopped shaking, and broke into a cold sweat. He murmured inanely to himself, still out cold, and shivered. When spectacles of light began to appear- fluttering around them like butterflies- his body relaxed, turning to a sleeping state. Fayt and Cliff looked down on him, worried.

"What the hell was _that_?!" Cliff leaned forward, poking the younger one. "Looked to me as though the kid was _possessed!__"_

Fayt shook his head. "It happens sometimes." He turned from Cliff, looking down guiltily. "You have an orb, too? This…I can't believe this…" He said softly, admiring the scenery around them. Apparently, they had reached upstream of the river, and the glossy moss tinged and binding up the thick and colonized trees. Turning and slipping the nunchakus he had held in his other palm by Frey's side, he didn't look Cliff in the eye.

Cliff turned, looking sharply at the bluenette. "And…what was that before, when we were running?" He picked up a twig, and threw it roughly on the floor. "This doesn't make sense at all!"

"Nothing ever makes does," Fayt replied sulkily, "It's normal, trust me."

All Cliff could focus on afterwards was the flowing stream.

* * *

The river streamed and hushed quietly, and some light bent from the sides. Fayt and Cliff sat together quietly, staring blankly at each other.

"Are you okay?" Fayt asked finally.

"Huh?"

"Are you hurt." Fayt asked briskly. "Are you hurt at all?"

"…No…bu' whatta about him?"

"I told you," Fayt replied, "he'll be fine."

Cliff wriggled his finger out of jealously. "But…ya ain't worried about him then?"

"No." Fayt commented briskly. "What I'm worried about is whether or not you're okay; after using orb magic for the first time, after all."

He turned, and there was an awkward pause. "Sounds…like there's something else you want to say." Cliff said wisely.

Fayt grinned openly to the heavens. "…Yes."

Cliff walked around and met with his face. He looked him in the eyes. "Well?"

Fayt bravely fought off his blush. "I'm glad…I'm glad to have met you, Cliff. Really…I am…"

And as the two smiled at each other before looking up at the stars again, a ladybird fluttered quietly from one lower leaf, to Fayt's unsuspecting hand. Standing there, fixated for a second, it scuffled its wings under its shell, and with that, the crest of old skin shredded off, but divided in two, One caught in the wind and found itself lodged in Cliff's warm hair; the other lay wrapped around Fayt's little finger.

"...You drunk or something, kid?" Cliff boomed, smiling like crazy.

And within the blink of an eye, it leapt again, buzzing away, the spots never changing on it's back, but nevertheless, they all looked new…

* * *

**Photons! Photons! Photons! Heh heh. TBC, folks…**

**Author's notes:** Introducing Little Cliff! LMAO, that was so fun to write! Who'd have known I'd grow near perverse? And the chapter raises the question on how the hell you eat a philanderer :P Anyway, this chapter was to speed things up a little. Next chapter, Arias. Next chapter also, Cliff causes trouble in Arias, and literally set it alight…because he's an evil, nasty meanie XD And Fayt get jealous somehow…and turns into a pink elephant; like the ones you see in "Dumbo".

…Aww, c'mon; everyone knows I wouldn't insult "Dumbo"! Anyways…I wanted to help underline the developing jealousy forming within Cliff. He's really protective of Fayt, and I think he's just aware that there could be another "alpha" (quote, end quote) male to destroy his fun. Frey's no longer shy anymore, is he XD? Mud ball fights are officially the best fights anyone can have. Actually, mud's going to play a part later. I've decided. You know I'm a sucker for cheesy star-gazing, so I put a little twist on with the ladybird...it was a bizarre idea that popped in my head.

Did anyone catch onto Fayt's phobia? It's a little more complex than being anorexic or bulimic, in a sense that he's scared of eating solid food. He doesn't mind things when they're crushed up; that's how he'll eat things. He can't have the slightest bit of whole food, or…we'll see. And we'll also see why, don't worry.

Who was chasing them? You tell me. What happened to Frey? We'll see! (I'm a poet and I didn't know it!)

Next chapter (for real): Arias. We meet up with someone who wants to tie up a "loose-end" with Cliff ---SFX: Jaws Theme!---, more childishness arises as a result, and Fayt makes a discovery of his own...plus flashbacks. God, I need to explain how the situation in Airyglyph went...

Well, gotta go! Hope you all enjoyed this chapter!

_Zel x_


	5. Chapter 4: Kein Aber! Part 1

**Disclaimers: **As usual, I do not own Fayt, Cliff, or any other non-original characters.

**Warnings: **The length of the chapter, mental stripping, bitchyness, more hair colouring, and some mild sexual references. In the Yaoi sense. No like? Press back, and everything will be swell! XD

**Plot Theosis:** The trio arrive in Arias to a not-so-warm welcome when an "outlaw Prince" has seemingly decided to plague the town's spirits. Cliff finds that age isn't always easy to determine…Fayt reflects on his feelings alongside a few past deeds. Meanwhile, Cliff's obviously done something he shouldn't have done, and cosplay and betrayals make room for a sugar-sweet-bitter ending. C'mon. You know you want it.

**Author Notes: **As promised, we meet the person responsible for the Jaws Theme the end of last chapter in my comments. Ohh! Don't worry; I'll make sure they don't eat Cliff. Warning: THIS IS AN INCREDIBLY LONG CHAPTER. I hate being mean, but I don't really want to split it into separate chapters...so instead, I've split it into parts. One longer than the other, but nonetheless, it's a coffee break. Don't you love me for being so kind on your eyes? Well, not in terms of my appalling grammar…you know what I mean!

**Shout outs!: **

**4quintessence:** XD You know, those first three lines in Cliff's...urm, skinny dipping...in the last chapter? I did specifically think, "gotta make Quin go mad!" Looks like my plan worked, eh? Haha. Yes. Cliff was my favourite last chapter round. Same this time round, too. I'm so happy you loved it! Thanks for your kind comments. And I so totally did not know what a philanderer was six months ago and I did not think for one second they were edible XD Yay me. I laughed so much when you mentioned about how it was hailing. Holy crap, considering the length of that chapter...that a long time to have hail :D

I haven't had any in a while over here, it's like it's turned into a summer fest. I'm still searching for SO3 manga; well, manga that isn't in French :3 (I can read it, and translate it a bit. Just being lazy...-) Eitherway, more Cliffness for you this time round, and some symbolism for you to puzzle out. Hope you like the chapter! (PS: Yep, I did receive your e-mail! Yep, Snowdonia XD I suppose because I've been there so many times, I haven't really thought of the name as weird. I'm glad that things are working out for you. I'll reply soon :D)

AutumnRain09, AlchemistM, supX and DarkLuminescence: Each and every one of you guys totally rock! Thank you so much for your support, I really appreciate it.

And special thanks to DL for putting Vanilla in your C2 archive! I've only just noticed, but I feel so proud! Again, even more thanks. I'm glad you liked it :D

* * *

**Chapter 4- ****Kein Aber! ( No "if"s, no "but"s!) Part 1 of 2**

When the wind finally decided to calm down in the little town of Arias, two pairs of workful eyes failed not to rest.

The two sat quietly on the church hilltop above the crash of rocks; a petit violette perched himself wisely under a blossom tree with his gaze only brushing from the toffee canyon to the dying forest slivering at its mouth, whilst a taller, raucous man with long, chocolate brown hair sat murmuring, plotting on the cold-broken boulder. The morning dew spilled onto the grass, and became trapped in the jewel of the smaller one's hand. The light seemed to vanish at the touch.

The wind suddenly threw itself upwards violently. The grass hustled worryingly, and the moon gave way to the sun.

The dark-haired man grinned impishly, while the smaller one sat, unimpressed. "Lights, morning…bit of action; you know what I'm saying."

"I'm scared that I do." The man with the jewel replied honestly, running his right palm through his hair.

The brunette saw this as a go-ahead sign. "Yeah, well. Worst part of work's done…heh, _man_ they were easy to find."

A fully bloomed blossom fell down from the tree, swinging elegantly until, it too, reached the violette's glove. The flower started to drift restlessly towards the centre near the pyre-red jewel, almost like it had a mind of its own…

"I mean- yeah, _talk about easy to ambush_. If you've got some sorta secret army, you don't just wait by a main-stream river in the pain blue. Kinda ridiculous, really."

Another moment passed. The smell of the poppy-red roses littered the air.

"No wonder he's so stupid anyway. I-"

"I've heard this before." The other man interrupted quietly.

"So what?! You sidin' with 'im, anyways?!" He sat, flustered.

About the brunette. Twinned with two others, like them he was smaller than average height, and had tiny hands and feet... he shared their flickering noses and their pearl white teeth, too. Long, straight hair, left handed…these long, occult lashes that had the ability to smile at all enemies and challenge them at the same time. But what set him apart from his brother and sister was a lot more than just normal appearances. The normal: on his right hand, his little finger was webbed like frog's feet to the one to the left. His left wrist always drooped. He had no nails. His neck was decorated with tiny scars, and his ears were untouched by earrings. His wrists were tattooed with delicate little symbols. His voice was quick, his tongue was sharp and his mind was beyond all reach. His hair was also a different colour too, and he had a pale complexion, soft purple lips and scandalous ochre eyes that mirrored perception, and shone back deception.

The unusual: whenever he stood up straight in a room, it was as though a spotlight was directly linked to his actions, and when he spoke, it was as if a god was playing poker with the devil. His hands- webbed though one finger was- were always sliding from side to side, always gripping something tightly with the slightest brush of his fingers; whether that was possible at all to do so, even in a manner of wizardry, was a different tale to be told. His cheeky grin mismatched his skills in weaponry, and his accent was only in opposition to his mind; and behind that he masked any swelling anger that may have been only waiting to explode. All that mattered, however, were his talent for mischief- or rather, his ability to land others in trouble- and his abilities to imitate other's actions _perfectly_. And all Mr. Adray Lasbard remembered when he saw his other son was that he hadn't named him the Xenian verb for "quiet" for kicks and squeals.

The young man was the one known as Aron Lasbard.

"C'mon then- ya- you're, I' mean. Right, I know whatta'i'm gonna say now." Aron squawked quickly. "Then held up- I got made to work away years before 'e did, squalor to gain some sort of- well- he's just stupid, really, leaving soldiers by the river. I didn't even go to school for that long 'n' I know that." Aron beat into his square little chest, devilishly proud. "I dunno, I'm the _clever one_ and he gets the army."

"…No Nethergate?" Alty questioned darkly.

"No. Not on' in sight." Aron's lips pulsed.

"Huh." The violette responded wearily, only focusing on the forest.

Aron turned favourably towards the smaller one. "Unfair right? We still look an awful lot alike, so don't you think it's unfair our lives are so different?"

Silence.

"Isn't it?" He asked.

Silence again.

"Alty." The other one seemed so dangerously focused on the edge of the forest…Aron pounced onto his feet excitedly. "Don't'cha get _tired of being under his nails _all the time?"

The man known as Alty turned, smiling conspicuously, his greasy hair shining dully as he twisted his neck around. You could hear his bones click. "Who, exactly?" He replied smoothly.

"You know- 'ho; that…that Zelpher chic and Leingod- ya, I said "him", before ya say, but she gets on your nerves too, right?" Aron commented cleverly. He slithered closely behind the other one's neck, like a curious snake. "Ya say nothing 'bout anything, but you don't like them either, ya."

"…Off my back, _right now_, or who knows what kind of "_accident_" there'll be! I use Runology, and don't you forget it." Alty growled quietly. Aron skittered back awkwardly, shivering. A cold breath of wind crawled through the air, and the morning sun smeared a tone of dull copper brown in the clouds. He looked Aron up and down, and then smirked.

"Fucking pansy." Alty coughed.

"Yeah, I- what?! Me?!" Aron barked.

"Yes, you! Looking all hurt like that just because I told you back off… no wonder what happened happened. That _"Sir" _Cliff- granted, he's Airyglyph scum," Alty added articulately, clearly trying to rub any salt in Aron's mental wounds further, "- but I bet you were staring him up, weren't you?" He spat, disgusted. His face scrunched up tightly, and his little nose squeezed itself upwards, "A Lasbard, going down _that_ path…and with the enemy? What a woeful, tragic tale of …"beautiful transgression". Can't wait to hear of your engagement."

Aron's back bolted upright. "Are ya making _fun _of me, ya poewetic- argh- ya coward?!"

Alty grinned sadistically. "Then tell it to my face; women never have quite taken your fancy now, have they?"

"…Oh, _whatever_! Change the subject now!" Aron growled angrily, and Alty laughed cruelly, a malevolent grin plastered on his sculptured, well-bridged face like a hunch-backed gargoyle. Aron face drained white, and anger pulsed through his veins. "Change. It. Now."

"Answer me." Alty giggled.

"Not your business. Anyways- who the hell do ya think I am?! Frey?"

"You are triplets." The other once responded, feigning simplicity.

"An'?! Tha' means what?!"

"Same blood doesn't boil different, you know." Alty sneered nastily. His tongue rasped in-between his tiny teeth, like a coiled snake, and as he glanced further into the woods, a raven swooped and landed in the branches, clawing at the wooden flesh. "_Same blood, same results._"

Aron looked as though he was going to scream, but then Alty changed the topic. "…Look sharp, now. They've _finally_ arrived."

And looking down on his knees, Aron thought that the only option he had was to believe. He twisted his head up, jerking only slightly at the sight of the mouth of the forest…three tiny petals of heads limped through the forest, their summer, spring and winter tones fluttered into sight.

He caught Cliff in his sight, and grinned mischievously.

"Righ', I'll get to work, th'n…" Aron muttered in an inane tone. He wobbled off the boulder, and walked towards the crimson sunrise, into the dusk ridden town, with a charming smile on his face. "He better be ready to face the music…"

And then finally, that little petal reached the gem in the centre of Alty's hand. Heat swelled and swirled from his palm, and then, within no more than a second, the petal was no more than ashes. The mahogany dusk scattered into the air, and drifted away…

* * *

…as Cliff stomped his way proudly past the pinnacle rocks, he found that the knife sharp pebbles just stopped at the upper sole of his foot, and he also found that each time he tried to grab onto another rock, he'd almost always nearly slip- at some point, anyway. Thin, bloodless but painful, grazes were found throughout the palm of his hands, and his knuckles were dusted a golden brown. Behind the strong man followed Fayt, who carefully stepped over the edges and instead stood the smoother, less slippery slates. His wrists had been pricked by ivy and his clear skin was dotted with diminished purple spots, and his elbows were slightly bruised; he'd passed through the Bequerel Mountains and it's crevasses many times before, but somehow he'd forgot just how _treacherous_ they could be. _–Especially with those two…man. Arguing all the time…and jeez, how many times did I have to get Cliff out that hole?!- _Fayt reconciled, smiling half-heartedly. Every muscle in his body ached with pain, and he stooped down onto his knees, stretching his arms slightly.

Cliff strode further effortlessly- well, if losing balance occasionally counts- and eventually met with a near mountain-of-a-rock, leaning on it confidently. As Fayt gasped, on the rock to the left of him he spotted a tiny foot barely touch it, as the owner flicked gently into the air, and landed on the floor elegantly, like a cat (Fayt's felt a tiny thrust of wind power on his shoulders). Rising up suddenly, he found that suddenly he'd lost his title of second place, and both he and Cliff found their eyes on the intruder.

Cliff raised his eyebrows. "Mmm. Show off."

"…I'll say." Fayt decided it might have been better to agree. Frey posed an innocent frame, his hair slightly windswept, as Cliff grinned happily behind him.

"Me?"

"You see anyone else?" The blond replied sarcastically. He turned again, launching himself forward. Fayt shook his head and walked forwards as well.

"Can't be far…"

"Wha'?" Cliff pondered.

"Arias." Fayt replied, wooden. He caught Frey's shoulder and pushed him forward. "C'mon, Frey. You too."

"Er. Fayt?" Cliff began. "You still got the biscuits I gave you, right?"

_-Who are you, my mother?_ - Fayt sniffed. "Yeah, yeah." _–Sheesh…- _Of course he knew he still had them; whenever he walked, he heard them making this off-putting rattle. It was ridiculous…

They soon reached a dark, well trodden path. The earth suddenly felt flat, and soft; Fayt sneezed lightly. He clambered forward, his sword tucked neatly along the base of his waist, and his neck bolted upwards as his eyes met up with a familiar horizon. "There it is," he breathed, his left hand floating to the side. He turned to face Cliff, who had been slugging behind the two for the past four minutes or so. "Cliff, you ever seen Arias?"

Cliff's head bolted up from the ground. As he reached near where Fayt was standing, he saw a little town knitted to the edge of a rocky mountain. To the west trickled a gentle, miniscule little river, and not far away from that, lumber gold stripes of harvest. Cliff had never seen such a sun striped colour on food. Old Glyphian jealousy raged in his heart, but as the sun shone clearly on his face, like snow, he melted.

"Nah." He replied casually. "Only heard of it." He waved his hand off.

Fayt nodded in acceptance. "Alright. We're not far from Kirlsa; actually…we've just passed the mountains, so we're past the _difficult_ part of the trip, but…" Fayt lingered on the word "but" for a bit. "Well…this was where we were raised."

Cliff wriggled his eyebrows. "Your hometown, huh." He scratched the back of head, and then grinned. "Uh…well. Looks a nice place."

Fayt looked at Cliff apprehensively. "No funny business, you understand me?"

"Wha?" Cliff exclaimed, feigning surprise.

"Well, "don't cause trouble like you did last time" kind of business." Fayt said with a smirk. "Monkey business." Gaining no response from the blond, he shrugged, and muttered. "…Fine, don't argue with me."

As Fayt walked on forwards, Cliff was confused. _–Don't argue with me…? - _"Ya're pretty hot and cold, you know that, right?"

He strode forward confidently, following the bluenette carefully. His tough leather boots rubbed against his heels, and he felt something wet trickle down onto the sole of his foot. Then…

Little footsteps approached closer. "Cliff," Frey whispered quietly, "Cliff!"

"What do you want?" Cliff responded, almost drunk with annoyance. "And where'd you come from, anyway?"

"You're limping."

Cliff blinked, shocked._ Limping_?

"So?" Cliff retorted proudly. He stuck his chest out threateningly. "I'm fine."

Those same mirror blue eyes caught his frame, and Cliff froze his mouth open as if time had stopped still.

Frey walked closer, peering his head closer so that he was near Cliff's ear. "You're not _"fine"_ at all."

"Why you whisperin'?" Cliff nearly barked, snapping his head around.

"Because," Frey hissed awkwardly, "I'm not _suicidal _enough to make Fayt worried right now." He leaned away, and grabbed at Cliff's hand.

"Show me it."

"Show ya what?"

"Your orb," Frey replied casually, "wherever it is on your hand, I need to see it."

Cliff's face contorted, and he snatched his hand out of Frey's palm. "I dunno what'cha talking about!" He boomed loudly.

"What's going on?" Fayt called over his shoulder.

"Sure you don't." Frey murmured. He shook his head, and then pushed Cliff forwards gently, but forceful enough to get him walking again. He walked alongside Cliff; his fringe shadowed his face. "Alright, listen to me then, at least. Either," He breathed heavily. "You're taking me for an idiot, or you really don't know what I'm talking about."

"An' I don't!" Cliff retaliated, infuriated.

"Ok, I'll believe you, alright?" Frey growled quietly. "But- I'm being serious, Cliff. _If _you had one, if, would you know how to deal with… "_something you couldn't explain otherwise_"?

"Something I wouldn't be able to explain otherwise?" Cliff reworded, confounded. Frey grinned austerely and carried on walking.

"So you don't know, then. Hey, hey- it's okay," Frey waved his left hand feverishly as Cliff gave him a glowering look. It was then that Cliff noticed tooth-like scars on his arm and shoulder. Seeing Cliff's eyes trace them, he withdrew it casually and sighed. "Like what happened with me last night. That sort of thing."

Cliff's nose turned upwards, but for some reason, he didn't feel as angry as he thought he would be. "…You were knocked out for two hours, ya know. And ya kept saying something all the time…like "Asche" or something. "

"Uh-huh." He nodded. "I guessed."

Cliff eyed Fayt ahead of him. "…Isn't Asche his, er, girlfriend, or something?"

Frey looked apprehensive. "Well, she _was_. He will not…well, no. Ignore that…just trust me, they won't be like that for that long…"

"Huh. Really. Then, tell me; do ya know everything, or somethin'?"

Frey looked at him bizarrely. "Of course I don't know "everything". How old do you think I am?"

Cliff relaxed. The little "Princess" was getting easier and easier to talk to…without getting jealous of him, anyway. So he answered the question honestly. "…Twenty five?"

"Twenty five," Frey repeated. "Twenty five. Okay." He twiddled his fingers together curiously, and then gasped. He wore a childish smile. "Hey, Cliff!"

Cliff slowed down. "What?"

"Come here." Frey said innocently, waving his hand…

Fayt, impatient, suddenly turned around with hooked eyebrows. He placed his hand complacently on his right hip, feeling suspicious as he saw the pair metres away, suddenly looking as though they were getting on. His forehead beaded with sweat, and his heart pounded. Their foreheads were so close that they nearly connected together. Cliff even had a blush on his face, and Frey's diamond white fringe…_-Wait a second, that can't be right! - _Fayt thought feverishly. He shook his head, maybe feeling that by doing so, the images inside his head would fall out. _–Alright. Think, Fayt, think…- _

Then suddenly, as they approached the town boarders, the cruel idea came.

He altered his voice nonchalantly, splitting himself from his _jealous_ thoughts. "Cliff! Just thought I'd let you in…" He gripped and played with his leg armour, curious as to what response he was going to get. "The penalty for paedophilia- that is, relations with children younger than sixteen- is death..."

Silence swept through the valley, and Cliff's neck snapped upright.

"What?"

His look was equivalent to that of one of a child who had just snapped out of a dream. The blond then looked at the one beside him, who was now whiter than his hair. "I thought you were twenty-something!" Cliff exclaimed.

"Did I say I was "twenty-something"?" Frey replied evenly. "I never told you my age."

Fayt sniggered, his face mischievous. "He's fifteen."

"_Fayt_!"

Cliff nearly tripped over his feet again. "Seriously? You're fifteen?" He looked at Frey, but didn't wait for a reaction. "Wait a sec. I've been arguing with a fifteen year old kid?"

Fayt ran further down the path, his heart pounding almost as fast as that urge to laugh was beating against his sealed lips. He imagined that red horns would be popping out of his head right about now, never mind his hair going pink…

"Hey, why's your hair gone funny, anyway?"

Fayt turned instinctively…and realised; it was _his _turn to laugh now.

""Keep your cool"…yeah right, Frey…" Fayt burst between waves of laughter. Those pretty streaks of emerald were just _too much._

–_Serves him right for eating that sauce the other day…-_

_

* * *

_

_**(A/N: Okay, my giggle moments are over, now…)**_

Whispers crackled though Arias along with the wind that pounded near the town gates. The pebbles shone dully as the light hit them, and the swinging signposts creaked eerily as the people stared, as the three travellers drawled though the town entrance, two shrouded in crimson cloaks, another in white.

As the trio passed under a crooked, half rooted tree, a crow cawed loudly, and mice stuttered rapidly into their holes. A burning body of blue illuminated the skies, and the fluff of the clouds wavered gently. The aprisian church bells chimed softly, almost flickering, and the golden grass hummed inaudibly in the wind. The ivory bricks mellowed into the shadows of the two rouge-clad travellers, the contrasting colours linking together in matrimony…

"This is Arias? Hey! I thought we were-"

Fayt, the smaller red shadow, talked over him. "Yep. Welcome, Cliff."

Cliff scratched his head roughly. "Thought we were going to some castle? Ah, well; this is where we are, right?" Cliff dragged out a map out of his pocket, and reading it upside down, he pointed at a glacier point north of Kirlsa.

Fayt sighed profusely. "No wonder we got lost, you're holding it upside down…" ("Oh." murmured Cliff, embarrassed.) Fayt stepped up behind Cliff, looking over his shoulder. Cliff eventually turned the map the right way around, but it took a lot of steered directions from Fayt's little hands to do so. Seconds later, Fayt pointed his hand over Cliff's bare shoulder, and shivers traced down his spine as he touched cool, immaculate skin. His elbow- beknowest to himself and Cliff- perched near his neck.

Cliff breathed in slowly. He spotted a few construction bricks to the side of him. "Whoa. What a dump!!"

"I lived here, Cliff." Fayt commented bitterly. But hidden inside that cloak, he smiled appreciatively.

Cliff blushed scarlet. "Uh- sorry, yeah," he responded in an even more masculine tone than usual. "Just needs- uh- re-redecoration, that's all…I guess…"

Fayt unleashed his beam. "No, no," he countered, "believe it or not, we can take it. Well, you don't have to hide it from us, anyway…"

Somehow, Cliff's heart skipped. He didn't know why.

And so then came the movement. Fayt took the first step…and the second. Cliff bounced forwards on the third, and on the fourth, Frey followed, eying his surroundings suspiciously. The younger one had been rubbing the top of his right hand throughout the older two's conversation. He now held his hand towards his chest as though a sling was supporting it upwards; meanwhile, an idea seemed to pop into Cliff's head. A question he needed answering.

"Alright. Tell me again; _why the cloaks_?" Cliff moaned to Fayt.

A little girl cooed as her mother circled her around near the central graveyard, a darkened tree overshadowing her little face as flickering, frail leaves fell softly to the ground. "You're hiding." Fayt responded curtly. "Just until we get to Headquarters, you're hiding."

"Huh. 'Cause I'm-" Cliff began cautiously.

"Glyphian?" Fayt interrupted quickly. "Yeah, well, that's part of it, anyway."

Cliff scowled. "But why do we have to wear red, and _he_ wears white?"

(Frey thought –_Because you turned my hair green with your food, maybe?-)_

Cliff thought it must have had something to do with his hair.

Fayt adopted in a mother-like tone. "Because _he_ doesn't fall into holes and get things all dirty. _And_ that way, you don't stand out that much." He seemed to slap the side of his head out of exasperation, and Cliff's face was soon consumed by his lower lip. "Geez, you really are a kid…"

They hurdled their way past through what was becoming a main body of crowd, who all swarmed towards the three like bees to a hive. Fayt frowned, and Cliff cautiously stumbled around everywhere. Those cold, waning stares scared him. "I wonder why there are so many people, though." Fayt murmured. "Hmm, not like them to-"

"_Mela_!"

The little girl spotted the trio away from the crowd, and her eyes bludgeoned open. She broke free from her mother's grip, and waded through the swarm, waving in and out through their legs fiercely. As Fayt turned, he knew he recognised those bouncing, ruby-blonde curls…

And horror plastered his face.

"Fayt!" She squealed loudly. "Fayt!"

Murmurs quaked throughout the people around them.

"Is it?"

"Master Fayt? Is that him?"

"Where has he been!? He knows we've had trouble here!"

"More strangers," one young man commented, "are they gonna do the same?"

_-Oh, shit- _Fayt suddenly sped forwards, leaving the two behind. Cliff rolled his eyes, and Frey remained deathly silent. They both instinctively pulled their hoods over their faces, sealing away their identities…but even Cliff wondered why Frey was doing the same, and why Fayt was running away so fast…the tiny little girl sped past them, bossily trying to push Cliff out of her way.

Cliff stepped to the side, shrugging as he saw her ran. "An admirer, huh." Cliff remarked, smug.

Frey didn't respond, and carried on walking into the shadows. Cliff shrugged, and followed him.

"Fayt! Fayt!" She whined, "Where's my sister gone? Where've you been? _Have you got rid of the Bandit Prince? --_Did you bring me sweets?" She panted as Fayt disappeared around the corner. Her big violet eyes scoured the area hungrily, like a wild _boar (1)_. "Fayt!" She squeaked suddenly, her neck bolting upwards. "Do you still have my ring? Say yes, Fayt! _Marry me_, Fayt!-- Where's Asche?"

The little girl- who as well as being called Mela, had a head shaped like an apple, too- toddled towards the barrels lodged outside the Lasbard mansion. Within seconds, Fayt was found, and dragged out into the light by his ear.

The cloak fell from the back of his head.

"Fayt! Hi, Fayt!" The little girl squeaked, glomping onto poor Fayt's waist. Fayt sighed awkwardly, allowing himself to get dragged. Her thick thrills circled her neck, and coiled, blonde sausage curls decorated her forehead. She gripped tighter onto his waist as a small crowd seemed to form.

Fayt shut his eyes, obviously unimpressed. "_Hello_, Mela…"

--

**END OF PART 1. **My advice is, get some coffee or something now. Because this chapter is far from over... XD


	6. Chapter 4: Kein Aber! Part 2

**Disclaimers: **As usual, I do not own Fayt, Cliff, or any other non-original characters.

**Warnings: **The length of the chapter, mental stripping, bitchyness, more hair colouring, and some mild sexual references. In the Yaoi sense. No like? Press back, and everything will be swell! XD

**Plot Theosis:** The trio arrive in Arias to a not-so-warm welcome when an "outlaw Prince" has seemingly decided to plague the town's spirits. Cliff finds that age isn't always easy to determine…Fayt reflects on his feelings alongside a few past deeds. Meanwhile, Cliff's obviously done something he shouldn't have done, and cosplay and betrayals make room for a sugar-sweet-bitter ending. C'mon. You know you want it.

**Author Notes:** This is the second half of Chapter 4... so I suppose my notes and stuff will be there. Enjoy this chapter!

* * *

**Chapter 4: Kein Aber! (Part 2)**

"I'm not letting you go again!" She bellowed, clenching onto him tighter. Fayt gritted his teeth in pain, as her sharp nails seemed to poke at his skin through his clothes. He swore, somewhere on his arm, he felt cool blood. She nestled into his chest, and Fayt blushed vigorously as the crowd only seemed to bore stares straight though him.

"I'm not letting you go- ever, ever again!" She repeated, as though echoing the words would make Fayt love her just as much as she did him. He rolled his eyes.

"Mela, off."

"No way! NO WAY, no!" Mela's voice was almost as annoying as Lady Esteed's. _–Hold the thought; don't want her to suddenly appear…-_

Voices in the crowd suddenly became more distinct to Fayt, more disapproving…

_-Shit, my disguise…-_ Fayt shook his head. "Hello." He said timidly.

"Never mind "hello"!" One woman mimicked unkindly. She scowled through abused, yellow teeth. "We've needed you, Master Fayt. Those Glyphians…an-"

"Yes, I think I know. Maybe." Fayt interrupted softly. "They've begun to face our lines in the Plains. Makes sense, considering the assassinations-"

One man stepped forwards, his face beetroot red. Fayt gulped immediately. Aston was one of the gentlest members of the Crimson Blade, but when he snapped…

"Stop _pretending_ you know! You haven't been _here_!" The young man hollered. He kicked the dust moodily, and Fayt immediately felt threatened.

He shut up, quietly listening. Aston still continued, as livid as a _mad cow (1)_. "While you've been gone, we've had problem after problem to deal with! _Thieves_, _assassins_, attempts on Master Lasbard's life… we've been _betrayed_, Fayt!" (Some people in the crowd corrected Aston with a "Master Fayt", but Aston ignored them) "Someone has rattled to not just Airyglyph about the Thunder Arrow, but Xiena and Greeton, too! They think we're a _threat!_ Nethergate are having a field day!"

Fayt tried to focus on Aston as much as he could. -_Betrayed?- _The thought hurt more than Mela's pincer grip. "By who?"

Aston seemed to calm down as the crowd behind him seemed to simmer down and wander away. "We don't know yet." Aston replied. "Unfortunately."

Those nails were suddenly too much. "Mela," Fayt grinned mischievously, "Mela. I have biscuits..." He pulled out Cliff's homemade biscuits from behind his back. "Got them _just for you_. They're yummy."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah!" She babbled. She beat his hands against his back excitedly, and people only whispered more. "Biscuits, biscuits, we all scream for-!"

"Alright, alright, sheesh…" He threw the biscuits over his shoulder, and he was freed. She toddled away.–_Let's just hope there's no... after effects, eh?- _His eardrums were given some sort of rest.

Someone then stepped forward, and Fayt instantly recognised that natural red hair and those chilling, violet eyes. "Lady Nel." He addressed.

"Fayt." She replied a little cheerily, considering the situation. "I'd welcome you back from your mission, as Aston said…" She shook her head, biting down on her lip as Fayt often did when he was disappointed or frustrated. Fayt imagined it had nothing to do with any frictions with Lady Clair, though. "As you can clearly see, we are completely clueless as to whom it was who leaked this valuable information; but rest assured, we'll catch them."

Fayt nodded. "I know."

"As for this "bandit" you've surely heard of…." She began, flicking her hair out of her eyes as a breath of wind swept across her face. Fayt patiently listened.

"We have some suspects; our prime suspect hasn't shown up, however, I'm sure he-"

Fayt tilted his head curiously. "He?"

"Help! He's over there!"

"Bandit!"

Fayt's hands reached the hilt of his sword instinctively, and Nel drew her daggers at high mech speed, twisting around and sprinting in the direction of the cry. "Hold the thought." She called, a mercenary grin strapped to her face…

Fayt waited in the sunshine, smiling…

And as Nel disappeared, Fayt felt the air grow cold. He had this strange feeling of loneliness creeping up his spine, as he turned and stared down at the mansion. The sky had turned from a passionate dark blue to an empty, fleshless colour, and the birds from the trees were diving away from their nests, chasing away some white pigeons that had been perched on an ivory fountain Adray had bought out of a whim for his daughter. Some of them escapees sped past Fayt's face, only to fluster to the above to a wooden window. They looked trapped behind their wooden shadows.

He stood there, still, calm. Closing his eyes, but his hands tracing the back of his sword, he soon found himself in a small daydream. He felt the warm blood pump through his ears, and the wind whistling on his nose. In his mind, he felt as though he had just taken two steps into a calm river, and soon enough, he felt as though his bare feet were touching the mossy stones themselves. The paradise wasn't new to Fayt, but he still felt the same way he did the first time he stepped into his fantasy.

_-This was easy enough, this time- _He felt as though time had slowed down suddenly, and the waves of noise around him became nothing. He was the only person he could hear.

He imagined himself sitting down in the riverbed after trekking past the other three slippery stones, and he found himself, half naked, staring down at his own reflection. Ripples from nowhere seemed to connect with his, and half of his face was masked in a clouded mist. He sighed, and saw both pair of ripples become stronger.

_-Boy, this sure is different-_ He thought, as he glared at the ripples shimmering together. _–I wonder what this means? Well, whatever it means…-_ The face into the reflection changed from neutral to one of pain._-…Betrayed? By who?-_

A wisped, silver lined quilt fell lightly on his shoulders, and Fayt brought his fingers to it, tugging on it and pulling it towards his lips, like a newborn. He saw his fantasy trees twist and turn to a romantic blue, with luxury maroon petals budding from tiny flowers. As he focused on the shadows forming from the circles that bounced their way through the water, he heard a cool voice overtake his thoughts.

And the shadow became a person. Fayt's felt his heart beat uncontrollably for some reason, and his body felt possessed as he dashed over to the blond beauty, saw himself being embraced in those arms._ –'Atta boy- _It grinned.

Fayt felt his inner eyes widen. _–Hold it, why…-_

But his thoughts were interrupted by Cliff's voice as the figure winked saucily over at him. A lotus flower fell. _–Don't sweat the details. Suffice it to say, you're my man-_

He saw his image self cling to the blond even closer, and saw himself peck at the older man's chest, and Cliff, in return, exchanged this for a tight cuddle. Fayt felt himself panic, as though he was clinging onto the top of a mountain summit and about to fall miles down to the floor. _–I "like" Cliff?-_

He looked down into the reflection…and the water had suddenly become obscured by bleeding black lotion. He felt the air grow bitter, and the shadows disappeared into the nothingness. Everything turned to nothing, and Fayt felt panic take over his body like a plague.

_-No…-_

Soon, it all felt beyond real. He was trapped in darkness, his Orb hand swelling beyond control, its dark blue symbology providing the only light. He felt himself become weightless as he floated meaninglessly through the air. Everything was a void.

And then the _sinister_ voice echoed.

_-Kill! - _It hissed. _–Maim! Torture! Use your power beyond your imagination!-_

His wrists felt wet as he saw blood dripping slowly from his glowing palms, and felt dizzy from the sight. He coughed as he twisted his head around, desperately trying to calm himself.

The voice continued on, haunting him. He felt something- something freezing- pass through his thin fingers. _–Disappear into the shadows. Be one with us, little boy! Let your orb patch your future together with the satisfaction of spilt blood…-_

He felt the fear take over his body, and he was shaking…not just within his day-nightmare, but in reality as well. The water in the white fountain suddenly seemed to boil violently, and cracks formed within the marble.

But then, as he thought his heart hurt enough, the one image he never wanted to see again streamed through his mind. A tiny frame of a boy had appeared in front of his eyes, blood tracing down his neckline and his arms. The figure wouldn't even lift up his face, never mind open his mouth to speak. The little eyes reflected coldly, colourless and without life, and Fayt's senses came to life as the rotten stench of blood and vile poison snuck into his nose. The figure was full of despair; the little ghost's face was filled with a certain darkness that resembled death, and, with tears streaming down his face, Fayt reached out for the younger one's shoulder. The image then crept away as Fayt found himself falling deeper and deeper into a bottomless gulf…

_-Yo…-_ He heard a voice. Fayt didn't blink anymore. His soul felt so cold, it didn't matter.

It only mattered when he felt a warm, firm hand on his shoulder.

"_Yo, Fayt!"_

A buzz hummed through Fayt's mind, and light melted into the scene. His hand scorched with pain as he felt the cool sun burn down on it. And turning around blindly, he opened his eyes and realised, he was back in Arias again. Everyone around him was walking around casually, glaring cruelly at the man who was gripping onto Fayt's shoulder. His heart raced out of his cage when he saw Cliff before him again, smiling childishly.

"Huh. Scared ya, did I?" Cliff taunted, sticking out his tongue.

Fayt flushed red as soon as he saw Cliff's pink tongue poking out of his lips. Cliff's moist fingers nearly wrapped under his arm, and he felt a shudder sweep down his spine. This provoked Cliffs' widening grin, and some onlookers, who had now returned outside the mansion, seemed to be curious as to why an older man was grasping Master Fayt's arm, and why the respectable one was blushing like a red apple.

Fayt stepped back, cautiously. "What are you doing, Cliff?" He asked, suspicious.

Cliff only grinned more. "What do you mean, what am I doing? You're the one standing here like a – uh, whatchamacallit…" He twiddled with his thumbs, playing with them as he thought. And then his eyes widened. "Uh, yeah, that's it. You were the one standing around like a _space cadet_."

_-That's something from that…! - _Fayt thought, suddenly excited. "Uh. What's a "space cadet", anyway, Cliff? Where on Elicoor are you getting all this…stuff from?"

"Thaaat's a secret." Cliff said. Fayt figured the blond probably didn't know himself what it meant. "If I mean, if you knew, I'd have to kill you."

Amused, Fayt laughed and started poking the blond in the chest. "Be funny with me, and I won't rescue you next time you fall down a hole. Understand?"

Four droplets bled down from the trough in the fountain at the same time, plummeting into the water and locking their ripples together. They seemed to dance in the precious sunlight, and the black crows peaked over the water, eyeing curiously the little wrinkles as they walked on the water's surface, as though they were wondering how they worked…

Fayt suddenly tiled his head curiously, as he stared emptily at the Lasbard household. "Strange how seeing this place makes me feel tired."

"Wha? Ya mean ya can get grouchier than this. Man."

"Cliff…" Fayt began cautiously.

Cliff turned slowly. "…Yeah?" _–Busted-_, the blond thought.

"…I think you'll find when we get in here, there's actually someone "worse" than me." Fayt said sternly, folding his arms. He looked around suddenly, and over his shoulders. "Hmm. Oh yeah."

Cliff looked at him, curious. "What?"

"Where's Frey?"

"Oh. Uh-"

Fayt eyed him. "Yeah?"

Cliff shuffled about, looking and feeling nervous. What to tell Fayt? The blond couldn't really just tell the bluenette that Fayt's (in Cliff's mind, anyway) little "more-than-acquaintance" had "disappeared out of his sight" during the commotion about that Bandit Prince thing, could he? His hands wandered up his back, making sure those _-folding…sticks…things…- _were still hidden in his shirt, and that they weren't going to be falling out onto the floor anytime soon_. _Anyway, Cliff was sure that those things were red the first time they met, and not this dark, musky brown colour.When he found them, he smiled; scratching his head a little too nervously, andthen he gritted his teeth, clearing his mind of everything. It was the best face to pull when he was lying, he found.

"He went for a walk." He garbled quickly.

"Oh, right. He- what!? He wandered off, just like that?" Fayt blinked surprised.

Cliff tried to compose himself a little better. He cleared his voice. It always made him appear more confident, doing that… "Yeah, he did. Uh, anyway, I have proof."

"Proof, huh? And what proof's that?" Fayt asked. He gave Cliff a sharp look, one that Nel gave Fayt when he younger each time he couldn't figure out the answer to any of the Symbology questions she had set for him.

Cliff pointed upwards towards the sky, and…

* * *

There was a sort of grandeur splendour inside the Lasbard mansion that demanded a level of intrigue. Fountains seemed the main theme of decoration, but each one was lain out to such precision that the each droplet of water than fell sounded like a harmonic note when it hit the water. There were green, meticulously detailed leaves weaving themselves in and out the banister rails above them, above the dining hall, and a library of symbology books could have easily have been found in just one pile that had been left to the right of the table.

Cliff's stake was getting cold, and Sir Adray's voice was tiring. "Well, I'd apologise for Clair's lack of skills in the kitchen, but I'd say that any food- good or bad- can accommodate for celebration!" Adray had boomed, grinning like a Cheshire Cat.

"Father! Don't be so rude!" Clair shouted, astonished. "You can't say things like that in front of guests!"

Fayt, who was sitting opposite to Cliff, looked up at Clair bashfully. "No, it's alright. Adray, your daughter's food is wonderful." He pulled his spoon to his face, tipping the cream white chicken soup into his mouth. Cliff did not really realise, but it was the first time that he had seen Fayt eat something. So, said blond haired Glyphian felt happier. "She is a gifted cook. Really!"

Clair blushed. "Oh, no…"

Nel, who sat near the top of the table, almost hidden by her ruby red locks, looked up suddenly. "It's strange how I'm sitting here, and the man who decided to flirt with us is still alive and breathing…"

She ended this with a smile.

Cliff's eyes crossed as he tried to stuff a slice of steak into his mouth. Fayt sniggered, gasping for breath. "Yeah, I know." He breathed out through exasperated giggles. He stared at Cliff for a second, laughed even harder and then turned to Clair again. "I can't believe your brother didn't hang him by the ears."

Clair grinned and nodded politely. "I don't suppose throwing a drink in someone's face warrants any favours though, right, Sir Cliff?"

Cliff shivered at being classified by his noble status. Even by a woman whom he would have otherwise considered an "enemy", the title still had the same effect. "Uh, yeah. But I guess, if he's ya brother an' all, he was jest trying ta- ya know, protect ya?"

Clair shook her head. "Oh, no. He was being unreasonable. Aron shouldn't go around and throw things in people's faces just because I'm his sister. In fact, he needs to grow up."

Nevertheless, Adray disagreed. "Well, yeah. But I suppose the problem is, when there's two, _defenceless little ladies_-"(Nel gave Adray a dangerous look) "a guy can't help but protect them."

Nel glanced over at him coolly. "But there's "protecting" and fooling around." She then whipped her head around, glancing at Cliff. "Personally, I don't trust you Cliff, but there are two things I want to know. First, how did you disarm him so fast? Secondly, how did you know about Rouge?"

Cliff stuffed another slab of meat into his mouth. "Mell, woo woe…" _Well, you know…_ He swallowed as he caught Fayt's stare. "The owl, right?" He garbled quickly.

"Rouge, yeah, the owl. Urm. Nel, he just kinda saw the owl perch on Frey's shoulder, that's all."

"I see."

"And," Cliff started. "I dunno, actually. Kinda saw him coming? Got his sticks out, and swung them about, al that…then I saw his hair and grabbed it and then- wham! He fell."

"Not to mention you were brave enough to then drag him around the pub by said hair, drunk as anything, and then paraded the fact that you were "Glyphian and Proud"" Fayt sniggered. "Then, if that weren't enough, you go and throw his nunchukus into a beer barrel. You were lucky to survive that, never mind flirting with these two!"

Cliff blinked. Nunchukus? He felt up his back. Brown, were they? _–Oh shit-_ He thought.

"Aww, c'mon! I did think he was a bit too girly-"

"So you keep saying about the entire Lasbard population. I mean, what next, Cliff?"

Clair and Nel giggled tentatively, and Fayt blushed enviously. Then Nel and Clair linked hands across the table, and Fayt felt himself whiten. _–Oh yeah. I forgot. - _"Well, we have all told the both of them to cut their hair, but they don't want to hear one word of it." Clair laughed.

But the jovial tone didn't last long.

"I have only one son." Adray stressed. An icy exterior blew through the room, and everyone was silent. Clair and Nel let go as Clair shifted awkwardly. "After his change in lifestyle, I've had enough. He can stay in those dungeons until he rots. See if I care." With this, he raised his glass of wine a little hastily, and spilt the red blood almost everywhere. "To peace; to my life, and to the capture of all criminals!"

Nobody raised his or her glasses with Adray. Most only stared down miserably at their food. Nel looked up ambivalently, but in many terms, looked somewhat neutral to the situation. She swung back on her seat and hummed.

"It's a joke." Fayt commented bitterly. "I don't believe it."

"He fits the description." Nel shrugged.

"True," Clair agreed, her voice sounding as if she didn't really want to believe it herself. "Well, except for those…streaks…"

Cliff sniggered loudly, and then tried to cover his laughter with a cough. He bolted his body upwards as he felt Fayt's eyes gorge into his head.

"But," Fayt commented wisely, deciding to leave the topic of hyena Cliff until later. "Maybe it wasn't him. I mean, Frey, a thief? Sure, he's the leader of the rebels, but…"

Cliff agreed weakly.

Adray slammed his fist down on the table. A small portion of his food bounced onto his head, as if by magic. "A description is a description, Fayt. And ultimate proof. When will ya learn that being perceptive is how your friends betray you?"

"But with all due respect, you're talking about your own son!" Fayt barked.

"_You _should be looking at how we can organize our troops, Master Fayt. That's your job; not joisting into our family problems!" Adray bellowed at the top of his lungs. Cliff wiped his cheek as some of his spit caught him, and Fayt dropped his spoon into his soup. Some of the skin bobbed up to the surface, causing the soup to split into ringlets.

"But he was with us the entire time! Right, Cliff?"

Cliff's neck bolted upwards. "Uh? Oh right, he was, wasn't he."

Everything stopped. Fayt twisted his head sideways, capturing Cliff's gaze immediately. He was silent for a few moments, and soon all that could be heard was Adray's arrogant slurping. All eyes were on Cliff, and he tried his best to compose himself.

Cliff felt his nerves fall apart as he saw Fayt smirk. He tried to reach for the triple nunchuku that was still stuck up his back; was it sticking out, or something? Nonetheless, he jittered nervously as Fayt began to eye him suspiciously. "You didn't have anything to do with this?"

"U-uh, not really…" Cliff snapped. His palms had started to sweat.

The bluenette's eyes narrowed into tiny slits. "Really."

This time, Nel leaned in. Her foolproof, condemning eyes and smile were worse than Fayt's. "Tell us the truth. What is it you're not telling us?"

"Well, urm…alright then! _If_ I had anything to do with it, _if_, why was Rouge circling around above us in before we got in here?" Cliff asked, suddenly feeling smart. _–An' I am smart- _He reassured himself. He felt his confidence rise. This would stump them out.

Only it didn't.

"Frey used to live here. This place is kind of like a nest to Rouge." Nel twisted on her seat. "So…" she began.

Then came something Cliff didn't expect. Whilst Nel continued to stare him down, Fayt leaned in so close to Cliff, that the older man thought that Fayt was actually going to kiss him. "You know _something_." He stated, eyeing up and down his chest.

Obviously, this appeared to be an Aquarian interrogation tactic of some sort. It wasn't as if Cliff opposed the idea itself, but as Cliff caught a glimpse of those ivy eyes in their prime, he decided it might be better to back away. But even as Cliff reclined to the back of his felt seat, Fayt began leaning into Cliff even closer, so that their lips were merely centimetres apart. He felt his id starting to strip Fayt apart, armour to his shirt, as even his left leg climbed onto the rough surface, almost like some of those _–good dreams I've had-_ Cliff thought with a mental drool. He was almost tempted to kiss them himself, when his super-ego snapped him into reality, and…

"_It's alright; don't interrogate Cliff, everyone. It is not his fault. _I can explain everything." A stiff, feminine voice commanded. "Golden Boy Aron's been doing a bit of …cosplay."

Fayt rolled back into his seat quickly, and sat up straight. Everyone turned. Two figures stood in the corridor, their hands both placed onto the door. One was clearly a male, with a clear flow of jet-streaked hair and cool, toffee-brown eyes. Cliff noted how the man had to stoop below the door's wooden frame, making him nearly as tall as him. Or so Cliffs' mathematical mind deduced. He felt sick from envy for some reason, and sulking, he sunk his head into his arms, his head tilted to the side.

This caught Fayt's attention. "Cliff. Cliff, are you alright?"

Cliff's lifted his head up dully. "Yeah, I suppose. Just…yeah, think I've got a cold." He murmured, lying.

Fayt seemed to fluster a bit. Cliff was astounded as he felt the front of Fayt's palm brush under his fringe and onto his forehead. His back arched upwards, and Cliff suddenly felt alive and alert. He couldn't believe his eyes…or even his ears as Fayt murmured something along the lines of "yeah, you do have a bit of fever." (Cliff thoughts at that time were –_No, it's not that…-)_

Stretching, Cliff yawned sleepily and caught his eyes with the woman. _–Ah, she's small.-_ were his first thoughts, and then he noticed something else…_-whoa, look at that hair!-_

The woman sure was small, and with a shocking wave of icy blue hair like Fayt's, it was easy to think of them as family. But her cheeks were chiselled to perfection, and her face was shaped almost in the shape of a clear and visible heart. Her eyes were big, large, and a deep aquatic blue. Clipped to her waist was a projectile weapon of some sort, and her feet were plastered in the best armour. Maria Traydor wasn't the type of warrior who dressed to impress intentionally- her style was based on function- but there was no denying the fact that it did happen occasionally.

"Cliff, Maria. And that's Hatori." Fayt introduced Cliff to the duo, after nudging him anxiously. Even within a split second of contact, Cliff felt Fayt's nerves tremble through him like the sound of a viola. Cliff watched Fayt's face carefully as the other one nodded. "Maria. Was your group scattered or something? Frey had to meet us alone."

"Yes, about that. Sorry we have to interrupt, Adray. But, as well as the news I was going to impart upon you all, we have some information concerning that "leak"," she turned to face Fayt. "And it's not very good news…"

"Yes?" He asked. It had been the first time that he had heard Fayt so nervous about something.

The man named Hatori continued with a nod from Maria. "Everything links together."

"How?" Cliff, Fayt and Clair all asked jointly. Adray's face had remained like thunder for the past ten minutes. Both Nel and Maria shut their eyes, relaxed.

"You understand how Nethergate had been scavenging near the dead forest. Our leader sent Rouge to our base this morning about just that. We had to withdraw our forces because we figured the group had detected our appearance. As you may have guessed, we have now lost our forest to them, as well as Duggus Forest, most of Parch, parts of the ruins…they've turned from a basic minority group to a force that could very easily wipe out the Crimson Blade, never mind our rebel group."

Nel broke herself from her silence. "Only because we're not only being targeted by them, but by Xiena, Greeton and Airyglyph right now."

"And hence" Maria commented fairly, "why the present situation is so dangerous; not just for the Crimson Blade or the rebels, but also for her Majesty the Queen herself."

"Whoa. I knew this was some kinda matriarchal society here, but a Queen?" Cliff quirked at the end of his sentence, suddenly delighted. He looked over at Fayt. He tried to ignore how attracted he felt to those beautiful, round lips… "Yo Fayt!" He whispered, "Is she hot?"

Fayt only raised his eyebrows. _–Typical-_ He thought. "Cliff, this is important. I'll answer that later, alright?" Turning back to the duo, he looked even more anxious. "But…well, it makes sense, but how on Elicoor does that relate to Aron?"

Maria grinned. "Like I said, and as we all know; Aron is a master at cosplay. And, considering the fact that Aron has a...grudge against the Rebel Prince and the fact that they are..."

"...Triplets." Fayt groaned. "Oh, great..."

Maria nodded. "There's no other explanation, I'm afraid."

Adray, who everyone had seemingly forgotten up or thought to have been asleep up until now, snorted through his nose. "And I suppose, Miss Traydor, you're calling my son a bandit and a criminal. Is that it?"

Maria glared at him sharply. "If you're capable of tarring your other son with the same brush, then yes. That is exactly what I am saying."

"Not only that," Hatori followed,"but it seems you're being followed by Glyphians within the Black Brigade regiment."

"Gee, 'Bel must be pissed, Fayt. Whadd'ya do to the poor guy?" Cliff teased.

Fayt glared up adamantly. "You know, there's every possibility that it could be the fact that you agreed to come with "Aquarian scum" like me."

"Don't think so. Albel wouldn't really take to well to being hung from a tower by his skirt!" Cliff spoke, humour sewn into his voice. _-Heh; if 'Bel could hear me now, he'd be ripping my guts all over the floor! A skirt? That's hilarious!_- Cliff high-fived himself mentally.

"Well, what would you have done, then?!" Fayt barked, obviously not getting the joke. But Fayt wasn't louder than Adray.

"I'm sorry, but there is no other explanation, Mr Lasbard. I understand you're upset, but can you give any other logical explanation as to why Frey was both in the dead forest and in Arias at the exact same time?" Maria argued robotically. "It's a fact. Aron was dressing up to frame his brother."

Clair, who had remained quiet for the past five minutes, suddenly rose from her seat moodily, preparing to leave the room. "Fayt, Cliff. We have prepared a room for the both of you. But I'm afraid you'll have to put up with the fact you'll be sharing a bed…"

Cliff bit his lip harshly. _–That's gonna be fun…-_ "Nah, we'll cope. Won't we, Fayt?" Without knowing it, he'd added a wink at the end of his answer, for extra Cool Cliff effect. He kicked himself mentally as Fayt staggered back. Seems like the kid took it as Saucy Cliff mode...

Fayt blushed vigorously. _Is he flirting with me?-_ He shook his head. -_Well, if he thinks I'm going to- _Bad imagery filled into Fayt's brain all of a sudden...

_-Alright, alright. Stay calm, Fayt-_

"O-of course." He stuttered. And then he stomped on his foot. He'd failed; he didn't sound anywhere near as masculine as he had wanted to sound.

Clair smiled politely, the sort of polite smile that gave the impression that someone was crying inside silently. "Okay. I'm just glad I can be of service."

Nel shook her head, and soon followed.

Their exits left a cold and unwanted void behind in the room, and it was if there was some sort of gravitational pull between Fayt and Cliff as they both slauntered closer and closer to one and other, painfully slowly.Fayt cocked an eyebrow as Cliff coughed suddenly, looking embarassed yet again. _-Man, everytime his mind gets an opportunity, it's as though he's trying to stare me up- just what is he doing, anyway?- _Fayt thought, returning the expression.

Strangely enough, Cliff was seemingly thinking pretty much the exact same thoughts. Except amongst those thoughts, Cliff was also wondering how someone could be born with the rippling blue hair Fayt had; he wondered if Fayt saw his appearance in the same light, too.

But then his mind wandered to whips and chains and prison bars "for some reason". And his stomach was hit with a disgusting sense of guilt; and it wasn't the kind of good guilt he usually felt when he thought of them, this time. Whips and chains didn't seem to excite him, no matter who he thought he was playing with...

Wind brushed through the open window to the right of them as Cliff consciously sunk his head deeper and deeper into his arms. A pretty, white lotus petal with tiny black spots drifted in sleeply in the gentle gust. It landed directly in the middle of the table, sitting between the two men. Fayt spotted how a small, hairline crack of orange pollen had been drawn in the centre of the petal, and looked at it bizzarely. He looked at it as though it were a puzzle, and that the petal was part of a large jigsaw piece. Cliff raised his bright, deep blue eyes for a second just to gaze on it. It didn't move.

Thirty seconds passed, and Hatori- Cliff figured that the guy was genuinely quiet by nature- brushed something down from his arm. Behind him stood the window, and behind that were the dry clouds, and behind that still was a splitting prism of calming blue, victorious yellow and crushing red. The bright emerald fields only heightened the scenery, and those strawberry blond crusts of bread coloured crops darkened in the sun. Even the prickles of poison ivy looked stunning.

"Fayt," Hatori started carefully. "We did find out about one of the two leaks."

Fayt broke his stare from Cliff, and felt his fists swell with anger. "Who was it? Tell me, Hatori."

Hatori looked uncomfortable. "Maria, please."

"Fayt. Before I tell you this, promise me," she spoke firmly, stroking back her hair. "Promise me and everyone else here that you _won't _do something you might regret."

"Yes," Hatori added plainly. "And this leak is the vital one. This person had been missing from your regiment for over four months, and has been giving Nethergate extraordinary amounts of valuable information. Hence they exploited both Cliff and our leader's weaknesses."

"Hatori, that's enough." Maria whispered hoarsely.

Cliff raised his eyebrows. "My weakness? Who is it?" Cliff hummed curiously, unaware of the atmosphere that was surrounding him. Fayt shot a terrified look.

"...No way."

Maria only bit the insides of her cheek. "I'm afraid so, Fayt. I didn't want to tell you this myself; not even I'm this heartless." There was a heavy pause. Fayt felt a crack tremour through his heart. Cliff watched the fragile boy carefully.

And then the power in Maria's voice returned. "Asche, Fayt. Asche is the one who has been setting all these traps out for us."

Cliff saw Fayt's heart break into two by the weight of millions of sickly sweet, sugar blonde curls. The poison of heartbreak had infected Fayt's fragile body within seconds. And then, as Cliff watched those sweet tears wasting down his face, Cliff sense of morality went into overdrive again.

He was going to make that beautiful, cruel bitch pay...

--

**Ya knew this was coming, folks! (Me cutting the chapter somewhere along the lines, of course!) Anyway. TBC…**

Author's Notes: I did warn you that this was long! Go get your coffees, you hard working demons! I did this very deliberately. Love me. Or throw apples at me because I really don't know how to end chapters. Or because you hate me so for a long chapter. Eitherway, oh woe is me! (Yay for Hamlet)

First off, yeah, I know... Let's all pick on "The Princess"! (totally doesn't comprehend why people don't want him to die...XD)–Sings- Hehe. Did you think I'd comment on the sharing the bed thing? Of course I have :D

But at least I can put a bit of a focus on my plot, now. Frey does distract me a bit (read about subplot below…about nine paragraphs below!)… how did ya like my description of Aron, everyone? Quite a complex character, isn't he? If he's near impossible to read when he's talking because of his accent, then I have succeeded in portraying him just how I wanted to :D Suffice it to say, though, Frey needs a brother to get him in jail occasionally XD. Or is he in jail? Oh, bugger it; you know the next chapter as a result means that there's gonna be no third wheel next chapter XD! Well, not entirely. And not that Frey's meant to be a third wheel, mind…

"Mela" is Italian for "Apple". But if you're an avid Star Ocean fan, you'll realise that she's not an original character! Neither is Ashton. See if you can find them, if you can't remember. Mela's kind of easy if you think apples are sweet, and considering where my chapter is set…

As you've possibly guessed, there are four Fruits Basket references. Two are labelled. Try and find the other two. XD I had fun using these references, as you can probably tell…I'll give a clue for the third; think Tohru. I thought that one really sounded like something Cliff would say, though…that's two clues, actually…urm…

Yeah, change of subject! Funny how I make people younger than they look. I've always thought Cliff was 25 until the official age came out. 36, my ass XD Fayt kinda looked 21 to me…and Mirage looked 23.

Aww, and I apologise for the lack of Cliff x Faytness in this chapter. I did try, I swear! All I've got is stupid hints. And mental stipping. Cliff, you bad boy, you! And sheesh. Fayt, you're only just realising you like Cliff? What are you, mad or something? After that tickling scene and all that blushing and your hair going pink? XD Don't worry, I'll rent a bed for you both. I do solemnly swear, though, I won't hide under that bed whilst doing so. I mean, it would be very uncomfortable…yes, as unlikely as it may seem, there be YAOI. Not next chapter, but the chapter after (I'm so evil). I have actually started writing it. And I mean "first-time-type" XD :chews: I've just got to get them over their non-existent reasons for being jealous of each other. In a non-violent way, of course.

But as per usual, I loved writing Cliff this time round more than anybody else. Is it strange that he's actually replacing Fayt as my favourite character? I think I make the guy too much of an airhead (another Tohru reference! XD). I'm trying to iron out how Cliff and Fayt are the main focus, but I'm also trying to develop a subplot at the same time, and…ugh. Maybe I'm making things overly complicated. Cliff made me laugh so many times during this chapter.

I forgot to request you for the SO3 script after your kind offer (you know who you are J ), so…oh yes! Pretty please, do you still have a copy of the script? I've got one, but it only goes up to after Duggus Forest…there's not that much Cliff up to that point…

Well, that's all from me for now. Back under the boulder I go!

Zel xxx


	7. Chapter 5: Je te rêve encore…

Disclaimers: It would be physically impossible for someone like me to own hot characters such as Fayt and Cliff. I don't own Nel, Clair, Adray, Albel, Maria, Mela, Ashton e.t.c. either. They belong to Square Enix! I disclaim Hatori, as his wonderful being belongs to the incredibly talented Natsuki Takaya!

But Frey, Aron and Asche are my own lovechildren, created out of my own purposeless imagination, so I haven't stolen everybody.

Warnings: MalexMale kissing. (Finally! Kind of…), a homophobic term that's repeated over and over again that doesn't reflect my opinion on the matter at all, occasional swearing…but hardly anything to go 18+ ;)

Plot Theosis: Can Fayt and Cliff really take up rest in Arias knowing that so many enemies out there are after them? Shadows are forever hunting …can't reveal too much, though…

Author's Notes: Can I really call myself an author? Oh whatever, I'll take advantage of the opportunity! Lots of wrapping up to do, especially concerning Chapter 3 and the two Chapter 4s. But I didn't get all the stuff I wanted to fit in here! Honestly, this fic is driving me mad! But I didn't want two Chapter 5s as well, or a deathly long Chapter 5…

**Shoutouts!**

**4quintessence:** (Zel cackles evilly) I'll be honest, I completely forgot about Chapter 3 in relation to 4…maybe that's why you're confused! But hand on heart, I will explain soon…. XD And the earlier chapters...the explanation for them has been aborted deliberately...for now XD So don't worry about that, either! Aron's ultra, ultra long description was also very, very deliberate. Glad you liked it, I know it's very off putting… oh my, you and Fayt are on the same wavelength; Fayt thinks the same thing happened! I honestly didn't mean it for "them" to look like that. But it was a very neat idea, so high five! (High-five).But that bit is further explained in this chapter. I wasn't so sure about my dry humour at the end concerning the bed sharing, but if I made you laugh, then I set out what I was intending to do XD Yay!

Anyway, we need Albel Nox to induce a massacre somewhere. Maybe he could decapitate Sophia or something? Hmm… I've written out the deaths now, anyway. Two made me cry when I was writing them, but they're not to come for a while now…

**AlchemistM, AutumnRain09, DarkLuminescence, supX:**Enjoy the shortness of this shonen-ai chapter! I don't like it that much, but only because it's shorter than what I'm used to... XD Eitherway, hope you all like it!

* * *

**Chapter 5:**** Je te rêve encore…**

"Apris help me… "

It was night in Arias, and the figure muttered this heavily, repeatedly as he clambered up the hill steadily, his feet gripping the insides of his boots. The figure wriggled his hand fully as to get the flow of blood pumping around his fingers. He coughed as a pillow of dust smothered his face. He heard some rustling in the bushes behind them, and a faint, whisper of giggles follow as he slid onto the floor, the soil brushing against his chin, but he decided to ignore it. He growled as loudly as he could, and as his clothing caught on a small, sharp rock, the material roared and split, revealing a small fraction of his tight, robust, identical little chest. He tried to piece it together with a single palm_.–Got to get this right…-_ the figure thought desperately as he saw that frame of violet hair sat metres away from the rundown prairie, grinning ascetically at the Lasbard mansion, spying on this one window that, for the last two hours, had been glowing with a romantic light.

The silver crest of the moon reflected sadly on the building's windows.

He breathed out of his nose. That chocolate brown, long hair of _his_ was starting to annoy him now as he snorted the fibres away, with as much force and as loud as he could, as aggressive as he could muster. He had to get this _right_.

He reached the peak of hilltop alone. Four pair of eyes, hidden behind grotesque, silver masks, preyed upon his body. The body folded his arms, and looked up at the taller figures with authority, and soon the black, shimmering bodies slivered backwards, sliding their double-edged, poisoned blades away. He tried not to shake his head as much as his body was, lest…_an accident_ happened. And at times, he would look firmly to the ground, hiding his eyes.

"Done," he said loudly, casually. He brushed his hands and huffed moodily, sticking out his chest and pretending to be proud. He didn't have a clue what it was that he had been told to do, but he knew he had been told to do something.

The figure on the boulder turned its face. He nodded in the direction of the dark clad figures. "It is time. Go."

The assassins fled away into the nightshade silently. One headed towards the bushes behind the brunette, but spotted nothing…strange.

_Everything was going to plan._

The violette then looked at him. "Good work, Aron! I am very pleased. So…then. Everything is going to plan?"

The figure looked around absently, trying not to catch Alty's eyes. He coughed as he opened his mouth, _his_ accent flowing. "Yeah, got'im in the bars, I did, yeah. Couldn' get much, but a' least, yeah, that leaves my stupid brother out of the equa- _whatever_!" The figure added hastily.

Credulously, the other man slid off the boulder, walking slowly, casually towards the other. He grinned gently. "I wish you'd get rid of that stupid, fucking accent. You're the only person I know who talks like that."

"_Whatever_. This is how I speak. I've always spoken like this-"

"Wow. You can actually string a sentence that is grammatically correct." Alty streamed in a sophisticate manner, his hands fiddling with his coat, the ravenous jewel bursting darkly. The brunette stomped down on his own foot, repressing a cry.

Alty didn't see this, however, and only looked up to the sky, his crescent shaped irises then wandering onto the town, turning his back. "So, you didn't fuck with that scum, then."

Silence.

"Look'sa like you is alone, then, yeah." The brunette commented.

"For now." Alty replied smoothly.

The figure snuck one hand behind his back. He flapped his fingers a little, and the bushes behind him rustled almost inaudibly.

"So, we can talk then." The figure murmured.

"About that engagement?"

The figure looked embarrassed. "_Whatever_. But nah…but yeah. The next engagement with the enemy, yeah."

Alty smiled. _"Your next sexual engagement with that scum, you mean."_

The rustling increased, and Alty heard. He looked around skittishly. He heard someone, or something, gulp. He looked back at the younger one, who seemed to be sweating. "Did you hear something?" He asked hastily, brushing the sickles strapped behind his back.

The figure looked confused. "Eh. Nah."

The response was short, sharp and swift. Alty suspected nothing and continued. He was tired of so joking with someone who was so stupid, so goddamn easy to tease. He breathed out slowly. "Tonight should be easy. We'll dispose of the three of them as soon as possible. That "_leader_" of a brother of yours has been eliminated…for now. Now that leaves only Fayt and _that scum."_ He spat. "We'll have control of Arias through a pincer attack, and we have a tactic for in case anyone tries to…escape."

"You mean, bodies for my brother's content, and lots'a fire, then, yeah." The figure asked, with a knowing smile. "My brother really don't like bodies. That'll _piss_ him off."

"And I was just about to congratulate you on stringing a second grammatically correct sentence, if it weren't having been for those…slips."

Silence again. The figure heard these footsteps behind him, and smiled. He hid this by nodding enthusiastically. "Yeah."

"There are three of us headed towards just those window there, one to that one-"Alty pointed at the lit window, "-and nine headed to the… for the front. Don't _mess this up, now_. They won't have much of a chance…then tomorrow, we replicate and smother the kingdom, picking off towns one by one. After tonight, everything should be easy." He breathed in carefully, and wondered why on earth the small boy was hiding his face.

He snuck in under his face, sneering with amusement as he flicked the brunette's hair back. He saw a second hand whip behind Aron's back, and saw it stay there. He leaned in close to his lips, and "Aron" blushed, clasping his eyes shut firmly. He saw a slither of mineral for a moment as those little blinds shut, and noticed his lips didn't look as bad as usual. He paid no notice, and laughed.

"You really are a faggot." He laughed, as he clasped his cheek tightly, feigning every part of his caring, double sided smile. The figure felt Alty's white, cool hands shoot a breeze of symbology down his neck, and the hairs on his neck rose immediately. "You're embarrassed to look at your own master's face. Well, I won't allow that pain on your shoulders." he spat, disgusted at the other one's obvious affection for him. He turned to look at the mansion, seeing two of his men already climbing that window…

He felt a soft, small hand grasp his, and he, absent mindedly, let that hand touch his, He then felt the hand shift his onto his soft, but somewhat tough-feeling at the same time, hair. He ignored it, and only shifted moodily.

"_Bloody faggot."_ He murmured again, almost drowsily.

The figure smiled._ Everything's going to plan…_

The assassins clambered the window higher, and…

* * *

**Four hours earlier…**

"_You're joking!" _Fayt bellowed. His bowl smashed dramatically as he bolted up from his seat, and his hand pulsed. Asche? Betray him? The idea was absolutely ridiculous! Talk about a bad joke!

He picked up his knife from the side, and threw it into the centre of the table for attention, the shine glimmering straight into Cliff's eyes. Fayt felt his cheeks flush with thunder as he stomped moodily, glaring angrily at the floor.

Cliff looked up, eying everyone else. "How can you be sure it was Asche?"

Maria shook her head. The strands of hair only muddled her expression even more. "I'm sorry." She murmured, shrugging. It was the only thing she could do.

Fayt palm began to swell deeper and deeper. The effervescent blue light threatened to swallow the entire space where Fayt had been sitting. It was growing at such a rate that it seemed as though his hand had a pulse of its own.

Fayt swore loudly and stormed out of the room. No short was he half way up the stairs when Cliff spun out, tailing him.

"Whoa! Yo, Fayt! Wait!"

Cliff could barely keep up with him. It had only been some distance from the Lasbard conference room to the stairs, sure, but Fayt sure was fast, especially, it seemed, when he was incensed. Fayt barely made a noise as he was repressing everything he felt, every damn ounce of confusion and hatred he felt in his gut. _–Liars, -_ Fayt thought, _-but…what have they got to gain from lying? -_ Questions like this only made his mind spin faster.

_And faster…_

"Yo!" Cliff shouted, "Yo! Fayt!"

Fayt barely turned. Then, the light collapsing into his hand again, he shut his eyes dreamily. Cliff had barely touched the first step when Fayt fell down into his arms.

His legs gave away limply and his entire body seemed much lighter than usual. Cliff smiled secretly to himself as his smooth fingers brushed away that forest of deep blue, as he watched that little chest inflate and deflate routinely. His skin felt cold- _almost like he was numb_- and he had a blood rushed tinge in his face.

"Fayt!" The others cried, seemingly dropping the previous honorific of "Master Fayt" for now.

Everyone gathered. Expressions of concern were common to everyone's faces, except Adray and Nel, who looked upon him with a sort of curious gaze. Hatori seemed expressionless, and weaved in past everyone.

Cliff's eyes flustered up consciously, and sheltered Fayt's face by outstretching one muscular arm. He looked at everyone just as much as a mother bird would protect her offspring- a "back off!" kind of look in his wild, yet sublime, cool eyes. He nuzzled his cheek into his hair, almost as though he was drinking his essence, and smiled playfully.

"Ahh, no worries," Cliff said, casual. "He's just out cold."

Moments passed, and then everything blurred…

* * *

**Four hours later…**

"Asche…"

The misty moonlight twinkled restlessly within the small teardrops than snailed down Fayt's dusky face. Fayt Leingod, the strength and pillar of the Crimson Blade regiment, one of the most trusted soldiers of Her Majesty the Queen of Aquaria, and one of the sturdiest, most headstrong young men on Elicoor itself, had been betrayed? By his own "girlfriend", nonetheless?

Fayt huddled his head into his knees and groaned. Cliff sat on the other side of the bed, watching him intently. It had been a while since Fayt regained consciousness, and he'd been like this for the past two hours. But what was the most frightening was that it had been the first time Cliff had seen him look so distressed.

Fayt looked up for a moment, his face like thunder, and then grabbed a pillow, hurling it down onto the ground. A few of the feathers slipped out and landed on his right boot. He screamed in frustration.

"Fayt." Cliff murmured.

Fayt shot a cool glare at Cliff. Inside, Cliff staggered at the look. Fayt noticed, and feeling guilty, he picked the pillow up from the floor and pushed it into his face.

Cliff felt his muscles tense up. He remembered what the Princess had said to him only hours ago. If he was going to do it, he better do it now.

He felt his lower chest tighten as he breathed in deeply.

"Fayt," Cliff shifted around the bed, so that he was sitting right next to Fayt. "Fayt. I'm sorry."

Fayt eyed him wistfully from the left hand side, and sobbed. Little tears could be seen dewing from it, and they slivered down his neck, and into his deep blue locks. "It's not your fault." He murmured, shaking his head. "But…_why_?"

Cliff simply shrugged. "Ya can't tell. No one can answer those questions yet, Fayt."

The younger one sighed impatiently. He rolled his head to the side slightly, and his eyes were a fluffy crimson red. "You think?"

"Of course we can't." Cliff replied. He rubbed his hands together anxiously. "Nobody will ever be able to answer them but Asche herself."

"To think I trusted her…" Fayt remarked bitterly, shaking his head. "But…I've known her all my life. I should have been able to trust her."

Cliff shifted just that little bit closer. "Sounds like she was the kind of girl I would have trusted too."

Fayt sunk deeper into his knees. "She wasn't just…beautiful. She had this kind of aura where I thought I could tell her everything."

Suddenly, Fayt wrapped his long, thin fingers about his head. Everything felt warm as his anger started set alight. He saw little flashes of blue appear in the corners of his sockets. His forehead ached. And he panicked.

_-My orb! -_ "Urgh…" Fayt moaned. He slammed his head down closer to his knees. Now wasn't the time to be looking into Prince Charming's eyes.

Cliff raced forwards. "Hey! Yo, kid! You alright?"

"Urghmm…" Fayt groaned patiently, his palms sweating. He felt Cliff swoop in front of him, grabbing his tiny hands. Cliff…just being around Cliff made Fayt's anger shrink into a tiny iron ball.

A few seconds later, the pain and anger disappeared.

"Fayt?" Cliff pondered, curious. "Fayt, you got a headache or something?"

Fayt's eyes flew up. He rubbed his forehead instinctively, as if he were going to rub away any evidence of his orb going crazy like sleep under his eyes. "Uh, yeah." He lied casually.

Cliff had the feeling that Fayt was lying. "Right…"

Cliff still had hold of his hands. They were a firm, yet gentle touch. Secretly Fayt wished that he could have those hands holding him forever.

"Well…" Cliff began, looking at Fayt directly in the eyes. Fayt hated that kind of soft eye touch, because once he saw those eyes, he couldn't escape. "You can't go around blaming yourself over some bitc-_uh_, your ex-girlfriend….uh…gal…uh, no. That's not right…"

Cliff was clearly as clumsy with his speech as he was whenever he was about to fall into a hole. _-But he's kinda …cute? Funny?...when he does that? –_ Fayt acknowledged. _–He's trying to be sensitive, I guess…-_

Cliff straightened his neck, and cleared his throat. "Ya know the old proverb, "keep your friends close, and your enemies closer?""

Fayt looked up, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah, and it's not a proverb. Anyway, that only works with people you know are your enemies. I didn't have a clue about Asche."

"Well, yeah." Cliff argued weakly, scratching his field of golden hair. "But that doesn't mean you can't use it now."

He saw Fayt look up to him, his eyes a little more dry, and to Cliff, his expression resembled a little lamb; lost, hurt and confused. He saw those usual poisonous, daring field eyes melt down into deep, summer-tinted limes. Fayt, at that moment in time, wasn't the tough little guy everyone depended on anymore- _he was the child_.

He nodded gingerly. "Right," he nodded, his voice still in pain, "yeah. I know."

There was a small silence before Cliff's coral blue eyes light up. He turned again to meet those pretty, green eyes, and then became nervous. "Fayt, I wanna try something." He mumbled.

Fayt lifted himself up a little more to meet in line with Cliff's vision. "What is it?" He asked curiously.

"I-uh…Fayt! Stay still!"

But did Fayt listen? As always, Cliff's tone of voice triggered Fayt's Alarm stage. He swiftly looked around the room; like a meercat, he was suddenly hyperalert. The rooms were tinged with a romantic tint of mystic blue, and the curtains by the windows seemed to float around happily in the quiet air. The sky was a perfect tint of navy blue, and the mountain range struck out as a rich cocoa set of streaks.

"_What is it?! _Did you see someone at the window or something?"

But before he could go as far as the end of the bedpost, Cliff had grasped at his waist. Fayt felt a tingling feeling suddenly surf up his spine as he meet with Cliff's face again…and he blushed. _–What is Cliff up to?- _

Cliff's grip seemed to loosen. And Fayt breathed out softly, still patiently watching that face.

And then…

Cliff moved.

He moved closer and closer to Fayt's motionless face.

Fayt's fingers began to twitch with a strange sort of excitement as he stared at Cliff in amazement…

…and then…

_Plonk!_

Fayt's thought he couldn't open his eyes up any bigger, but at that point, they were almost like pretty saucers. _–Wh-what the…?!-_ He stammered mentally. His blush was now a flushed tomato red. And never mind the blush. All Fayt's subconscious thoughts over the past couple of days began to sew together in one typhoon in his mind- too many sticky thoughts all mushed together in one place. He started to feel hot and flushed all of a sudden, and just focused on those eyes, looking as though he was staring straight through space.

Cliff had his forehead touching against his. His eyes were shut, and a pink flutter of a blush had been water coloured onto his face. Fayt felt confused as he fought back a hidden instinct to stroke those handsome cheeks. Who had taught Cliff _that_?

Suddenly, Cliff's eyes flickered open.

He saw the blush. Thoughts about what a certain somebody had told him suddenly rushed into his head, as Fayt pulled his head back, embarrassed. "So he was right." Cliff murmured quietly.

"Who was right?" Fayt asked, sounding a little more spellbound than the usual Fayt would probably like to hear himself sounding like. Fayt thought he sounded like Asche's sister, Mela, not a member of the Crimson Blade…

"He was." Cliff repeated. The hairs on his neck bolted upwards as he remembered he hadn't answered Fayt's question. Not wanting to eat a steel sandwich, he shuddered. "Uh, you know. Before, when we, uh…were walking? The rat, _uh_, I mean, Frey," (Cliff corrected this quickly) "showed me something."

Something clicked in Fayt's mind. His memories rewound themselves to four hours ago. To Fayt, it wasn't a pretty sight…

* * *

"_Cliff! Come here!"_

"_What do you want, now?"_

"_Tell me something; do you like Fayt?"_

"_Uh?"_

"_Alright, alright…I'll make it easier for you…you know how…right…try this. Try doing this to Fayt."_

"_Huh? Whaddya mean, "try this" What's "this"?"_

"_Seriously….just-"_

"_Oww! Hey, watch it!"_

"_Shut up! I need to-"_

"_I'll kill you!"_

"_No you won't."_

"_What did you say?"_

"_Uh, nothing! Listen. Just do that to Fayt and see what happens."_

"_What does it mean?"_

"_Not telling you! You've got to try and do it to him, first. Just…just make sure you don't end up in bandages afterwards, alright?"_

"_What?"_

"_If he likes you too, he'll blush."_

"…_Whaddya mean?"_

"_I mean- oh, no."_

"_What now?"_

"_He's seen us. Act surprised."_

"_Why?"_

"_Just do, okay?"_

* * *

_-...Oh, ha ha! Very funny, Frey!- _

After Cliff told him what had happened between the two of them, Fayt felt his face crumple up, looking as evil as it could be (Fayt was never very good at being "evil") as he tried to hatch a plot for sweet, wonderful revenge, in the form of booze and mishaps and perhaps the odd very angry, provoked Glyphian or two…

_-I'll get him back for this…-_

Realising Cliff was still there, he jumped out of these wonderful thoughts and looked straight up at the blond.

"So," Fayt started nervously, "do you know what it means?"

Cliff looked at him, confused. "No. But, you did kinda go red, kid."

Fayt looked anxiously to the floor. Was Cliff playing with him? "So you didn't…both do anything?" Fayt wondered. "Uh. Other than what we just did then, of course?"

"Uh, no." Cliff responded quickly.

"…No…_kissing_?" Fayt said carefully. He really hated that image.

"Whaaat?!" Cliff gawped, his mouth wide open like a fish. He flopped his left hand angrily to his side, and pouted. "Him?! You've got some warped imagination, kid!"

Fayt perked up immediately, and his trademark smile slowly began to form. He leant forwards again. He realised that someone might come in and see the two with their two heads stuck together, looking like two star crossed lovers, but to Fayt, it didn't really matter.

"So…it's a no, then?" He asked softly.

"Uh, yeah! You could say that, kid! You sure you're feeling alright?! C'mon, ya have a brain, don'tcha? I mean, what's thirty-six take away fifteen mean to you?"

Fayt felt this warm, tingling sensation rush up his spine. His hands shook around nervously, as he averted his eyes. "…Good. That's good, Cliff."

But Cliff grabbed his chin gently, capturing Fayt inside his gaze again. "…And why is that?"

Fayt shivered. His throat clammed up as he tried to speak again, but then Cliff's gentle hand started to brush his cheek affectionately…and then everything…

His head suddenly began to feel lighter as he felt his fringe sweep away from his eyes in a timely wind that tickled his face.

_Everything_…

"_**Did you ever know…**_

Cliff's mouth formed a motherly grin. Those lips…

…_**that I had my eye on you?" ("Eyes on Me", Faye Wong)**_

…Fayt couldn't resist them anymore.

Time seemed to stand still as Fayt flew into Cliff's arms, clinging onto his shoulders like a small baby. As the midnight light grooved the palate walls into submission, Fayt's lips merged together with his softly. Cliff, although a little shocked that Fayt was the one kissing him, welcomed Fayt by kissing back, his hand running through his sea of hair. Soft as silk, his fingers almost slipped straight through it as Cliff nibbled lightly on Fayt's lips, before hiccupping a breath and meeting his lips again. Fayt shut his eyes dreamily, falling deeper and deeper into the kiss…

Fayt was completely spellbound by the blond as his hand crawled up his back, brushing past Fayt's collar as he moaned lightly, rolling back onto the fluff of the bed. The cruising white of the sheets curled as Cliff pressed down on him gently, watching his tiny angel sleep away into utopia. Cliff didn't think he was that good a kisser, but…

_-Oh…my…god…-_ Fayt thought in a haze, still welcoming those older, generous lips. They were warm, addictive…almost like cotton candy, Fayt leant forwards, stealing more of the kiss, eager for more. Cliff's talented hands began stroking away at his sides, tickling his flat belly and feathered around the edges of Fayt's waist, like a mother would with their kid if they were ill. It was a _relaxing_, _soothing_ feeling…nothing like with…with her. The longer they kissed, the more Fayt began to realise just how cold _her_ kisses had actually been…his lips were now on fire, and the blood in his body was circulating so fast that it was almost like a gravitational field was dragging his emotions, making them go on a rampage. And it felt so _good_.

He slivered his eyes open as Cliff's lips left his, and started trailing butterfly kisses on the line of Fayt's neck. Fayt lifted his body up to meet his, his gaze tracing the lines of the room's window…

A glimmer of silver caught his eyes.

Fayt snapped away from the kiss, and pushed Cliff back.

"_What the-?!"_ Cliff staggered, confused. But as a six inch long knife barely missed his head and stuck to the wall with a sickening thud, Cliff wasn't just going to play Rejected.

The window had been snapped open forcefully.

The two of them had been too out of it to care!

"Damn it!" Cliff swore. "What the hell?"

"Who's there?!" Fayt barked.

"Fayt, over there!"

Fayt nodded, and looked in the direction in which Cliff was pointing.

"Who the hell are ya?!" Cliff barked.

Both of them had now turned their heads in the direction of their assailant. He was a tall, hunched figure completely clad in nightshade black, apart from his face, which was covered in a fearsome, ugly tiger striped silver streaks. His eyes were tinted with ravenous murder, and his blood infested lips smacked together. From the knuckles of his deadly paws stemmed large, poison tainted blades that stuck out like bear claws, and a stack of throwing knives were belted at his side.

Fayt rolled from the bed, grabbing his broadsword and whipping it open. Just a few seconds ago, Cliff had saw Fayt's softer side, but as Fayt immediately rushed for the attacker, Cliff did too. His fists clenched together painfully. He wasn't going to let Fayt get hurt by this guy.

"Cliff! Get back!" Fayt bellowed, barely looking back as he slashed at the assassin heavily. The figure jumped high at an impressive speed, throwing a dagger yet again at Cliff's face, but was easily defected- just in time- as Fayt swung his sword effortlessly. One of the curtains got caught in the feud, and was torn into ribbons as both sword and claw clashed in midair.

Cliff stepped forward boldly. "Don't worry! It'll be fine if I kick its ass!"

Fayt gave chase to him. "No, Cliff! No!"

An ongoing fluster of colliding blades ensured, sparks twinkling sadly in the crested moonlight as the wind whistled through the window. The attacker was fast- _very _fast- and fast enough to slice through a wooden post and half a second later parry a blow to the head.

But not too fast for Cliff.

He threw a solid punch at the figure, only to feel the cold air rush though his fingertips. He swung an almighty kick at the figure, again missing only by millimetres. The blond caught his footing on the wall, leaping to the side as twisted his face, narrowly missing the assassin's claws. The assassin swiped again, as Cliff confidently slammed a fist towards their chest. And the killer missed; miraculously.

There was almost a gassy rasp, as when Fayt just fended and pushed one claw away, Cliff had ducked under, landing a well timed and precise uppercut straight into the jaw. Cliff had just about seen that flash of silver and ducked, rolling out the way and hitting his head on the foot of the bed. Then just as Cliff saw those twin moons split in the air- the blades of the claws had a soft of calming intrigue about them- Fayt had swooped in again, swiftly deflecting the claw and counterattacking, leaving the attacker worse for wear with a gawping wound in his side. _–Whoa. We're a pretty good team!-_

Cliff grinned, and launched forward. "There's more where that came from!" He barked. And one step forward, and he only thought of one thing: -_I've gotta stop taking leaves outta 'Bel's book! Wouldn't he say that?- _

"Don't get hit!" Fayt bellowed. He sounded like he was almost pleading. "Whatever you do, Cliff, don't get hit by those knives!"

Half a second later, the second claw was wrestling with Fayt. Grunting, Fayt almost looked as though he was going to collapse…before he landed a secure kick to the attacker's side. They split. Fayt swung again. The hissing of retreating blades sent an unmerciful chill up Cliff's spine as he took at quick glance at Fayt, assessing any injuries the boy might have, his fighting pose ever evident. A deep slice wound had penetrated across the assassin's clothes, revealing unnatural yellow and purple patches beneath a canal of dark, dripping red blood.

"I knew Nethergate were up to something when you ambushed us in all the forest." Fayt snarled, circling the figure as best he could. "Do you really think you can get away with what you're doing?"

"This is Nethergate?" Cliff asked. "Thought they'd look more…masculine, but it's better than 'Bel in his dress, I suppose…"

Fayt darted him a look. "Cliff, this is no time to be joking around!"

"Fools…" The voice hissed malevolently, pacing from side to side.

"What did you say?" Cliff barked. His muscled flexed tightly.

The growls from the assassin were almost reptilian in nature, like a deep, tortured monster delved deep in their stomach, or lodged in their throat. "The reason we came here was to deliver justice to the blithering fool and to any Glyphian scum we might have found…now after what I have seen," They spat, their nose wrinkling tightly in disgust, "now there is only going to be more unnecessary bloodshed, you faggots!"

A fire raged in Cliff's body. Faggots? Not even Albel the Wicked could use that in a sentence without blushing, even if it did sound kind of like Albel's favourite word.

"What was that?" Cliff taunted. "Didn't quite hear you, pal! Come closer!"

The blond paced forward, and Fayt jumped, pulling Cliff back.

…And something fell onto the floor with a crash.

And then, Cliff remembered. _-Oh, great…-_Cliff shivered quickly, as he looked down. Fayt's eyes followed too at the sound, and then looked back at Cliff, his eyebrows raised. "You've got some explaining to do later, Cliff." Fayt muttered hastily, focusing again on the attacker, who was now sauntering drunkenly around the room, mad on the idea of killing them both.

Cliff stiffened, and tried to apologise. "Uh…listen. Sorry I didn't tell ya-"

"Doesn't matter." Fayt interrupted. But Cliff could swear that there was a smile forming in the corners of his mouth. –_What the…?-_ "In fact, I guess that's probably made things more interesting."

"Huh? Why?"

"I'll tell you later! Cliff, _stay back_!" Fayt hissed, clambered forwards. He pointed his sword offensively at the hooded figure, a murderous expression written all over their face. "Give up! You've got no chance!"

"Is…that…so…?" The assassin growled, a tint of playful, dangerous curiosity lacing their voice like rotten honey. They pulled out a long, thin vial filled to the brim with transparent liquid. The assassin pulled off the cork rapidly, and brought it to their lips…

* * *

**Muhaha! Look how comparatively short this chapter is, everyone! TBC, everyone…**

**Zel's Notes:** Just 13 pages this time round! No, I'm not feeling ill! :D I'm fine! -twitches violently- Alright, so I'm freaking at the fact that I have a maternal (not sure there's such word as "authoral") instinct that the chapter must be longer! Needless to say, you must all be so proud.

If anyone's wondering why on earth I've only done so much in this chapter, it's because this chapter was actually meant to be a lot bigger. And by bigger, I mean 26 pages more! Oh my lord! :O I had eight parts I wanted to cover in this chapter, but did it happen? Nope! Plus, I didn't want to torture you all by doing 39 pages of chapter…so that means the next chapter's pretty much done, but it also leaves the yaoi for later! What the hell! -runs from anyone who wants to kill her right about now!-

I've got an order in my head, no worries, and I know there's a lot of explaining for me to do on my part. I mean, did anyone notice the _colour_ of the nunchakus Cliff's got stuck up his back, last chapter? The ones Cliff must have still had up his back, and the ones that Fayt didn't notice when they finally did it? XD Man, I think the term "zoned out" fits Fayt's natural sexually aroused state… XD Anyway, mull it over, and next chapter won't be that much of a shock! (Not that it's gonna be a shock...well, I don't think it's going to be...)

Speaking of chapters, this chapter's actually kind of boring where it is now. But if it were ethical for me to have shot another load of pages at you, I assure you, things would have pieced together a bit more…and I even made myself laugh quite a bit. In other words, this chapter's all about the kiss :P It's only short, but that's how I wanted it to be. Short, sweet and…horribly interrupted. Poor Fayt and Cliff, my poor frustrated children! --Gets sued by Square Enix for claiming them as her "children" --I tried to make this as serious as I could, and I know the entire Asche thing seems like I've smeared it around a bit for plot, but …you'll see…

Speaking of kisses…the mystery of Chapter 4i has been explained! Although we have no idea what it means…yet…at least Fayt knows nothing went on :P Oh well, I've only mentioned Frey briefly, and Albel's getting quite a few mentions, isn't he? Don't worry, he's coming soon. He's not quite intoxicated by blood yet! Actually, its funny how I've mentioned them both in the same paragraph, now that Fayt's got some punishment planned…

A Cliff x Fayt video is in production- I found AMVs! But now I need to think if the song I've got in my head's appropriate for them.

Finally, to any Final Fantasy fan out there (Get the sad pun? No?)….did you recognise anything at all? If not, go back to before the kiss and re-read the lines in bold! Man, how I miss FFVIII… mine keeps on crashing on the FVM where we meet Zell! He poses handsomely and then…poot, the game freezes on me! Sure, you're wonderful Zell, but stop making FF crash… hehe… I wonder if I was subconsciously inspired by Zell when I chose my username? XD

Back soon with an update! Apologies, because I really don't like this chapter at all :D

Zel x


	8. Chapt 6: Viva por luchar otra día, ¿no?

**Chapter 6: Viva por luchar otra día, ¿no? ("Live to fight another day, right?") **

(Zel: Albel The Wicked asked me if he could do the disclaimers, this time…! And since he's so nice and hasn't played much of a role in the story …so far… :D)

"You're just lazy! Bah. Fine. I'll do it for you then, you worthless scum!

"_**Disclaimer": **_This maggot doesn't have enough money to own us, and she never will, either! The fool, the blond maggot, the Aquarian scum and the rest of the maggots are owned by those fools at Square Enix- except for those two idiots and that worm who hasn't even turned up yet, and that black haired maggot. But they're worthless maggots all the same!

There! _Happy now?"_

Zel: Yes. Nicely done, Albel. But you forgot one slight little detail…

"_What now?! This better be worth my time, fool!"_

Zel: Ah, yes it is. ©"Cliif's Squishy Butt" belongs to 4quintessence-san-chan, Aruberu…wanna feel? It's nice!

-is rendered headless-

**Plot Theosis:** -Zel: Glues head back on- ...What on Elicoor is going on? With Nethergate right at Aria's doorstep, battle ensues to secure the safety of the town. And that's not all…as the flames of the mêlée are quite literally fanned to bloody chaos; literally everyone's torn up in the conflict, with familiar faces and hidden ones too making an appearance. Cliff shows the world what he's made of, Fayt shows a bit of heart and some friends prepare themselves to fight literally to the last man- add some deception and a little bit of love in the mix, and you've got a recipe for disaster! Speaking of which… why is there so much screaming coming from that dungeon?

**Warnings:** Sexual connotations, swearing, bad jokes, me making up words, euthanasia, Little Cliff, my first proper descriptions of battle, squishy butts and bouncy butts, and little Shonen-ai…this chapter has it all, except for Yaoi.

**Author Notes:** As you can guess, this chapter's got a big six pack to fill in! Bad joke aside; I've really struggled to get all these events together this chapter round. I know I had a lot of it typed up already, but still…it was an effort getting some bits to fit for whatever reason. Two scenes in particular had me ripping my hair out wondering how to present them… other really made me question whether or not it was…appropriate. it's a wonder I've still got hair! Anyway! I really enjoyed writing this one, and call me pigheaded, but I'm very proud of it. It also made me laugh at times, and it takes a lot to make myself laugh- one scene (not the one mentioned before!) had to be cut out completely, which is kind of ruthless on my part. Oh well, meibbe it'll come up as some sort of weird "Director's Cut" chapter, ekin to Resident Evil…hold on! Was there even a Resident Evil Director's Cut? (Wiki says "yes")

**Shoutouts!**

**4quintessence:** Length aside…I think you might like your little reference here! XD I really, really hope you enjoy this. This chapter's my pride and joy at the moment, and I've tried taking out lengthy descriptions in some parts to give a better pace- in some cases, anyway! Wibbly-wobbly, squishy-butt jelly on a plate…I think this chapter's pre-Yaoi personified! (And P.S. I…really don't think that butt jelly's…_edible_. Eww! Bad Zelly, bad Zelly! –_runs away and attacks herself, like Dobby…_-) XD And I have read a bit of **'A Boy's Own Story'** by **Edmund White **because it was on one of my exams as a "hidden text"! I nearly laughed my way out of the exam, I was so bad with his lines :) I loved them to bits! But... you've reminded me to borrow out the book from the library, so...I thank thee! :D

**AlchemistM, AutumnRain09, DarkLuminescence, supX:**Hope you guys are enjoying this! If you guys see anything I keep doing wrong, please don't be afraid to drop a line if you want to :3!

* * *

**Chapter 6- ****Viva por luchar ****otra día, ¿no? ****("Live to fight another day, right?")**

It appeared, after Fayt had made five full puncture wounds through their assailant, and after Cliff had hurried in the corridor to aid other Crimson Blade members, that no place in Arias was safe.

Fayt had won without getting hurt…but only just. There had been many times where thought he was just going to get caught by those little blades…but, since he was the one standing, Fayt assumed that Apris- whether he believed in Apris or not- had decided it wasn't his time just yet.

He licked those berry pink lips of his, and savoured the still delicious presence of Cliff on his body. –_Apris, he's a good kisser-_ Fayt thought hazily as he wheezed and panted heavily, sweating profoundly as he fixed his gaze onto the assassin, who was now facing death with grey, senile and near sightless eyes.

"Kill! Kill, kill, kill, k-k-k-k-…" the body muttered inanely before letting out a terrified, white pitch scream, as they flopped onto the floor, paralysed by excruciating fits of laughter. Their daggers were still firmly grasped in their hands, but completely motionless. Their mask rolled to the side after a while, and revealed a matting of curled, ashen brown hair. Other than those little eyes, though, Fayt found that this man or woman had no visible features. They certainly had neither nose nor ears…and their mouth was little more than a patched, sewn up and constructed hole in the middle of the chin. They looked like a rag doll that had undergone various alchemy experiments and torturous, deliberate surgery.

Fayt's heart shuddered along with the rest of his body. Sure, Fayt could kill someone- it was what he had been brought up to do, if it was necessary. But, no matter how angry he felt, no matter how he had been brought up and no matter how protective he was of Cliff, his friends…Fayt could never bring himself to watch someone die slowly, even if he thought they deserved it.

Fayt put on the best, most comforting smile he could muster. After all, anyone who had quenched their thirst for blood through Arkralyam would need someone to relieve them in the end.

The fact that an hour ago, this person was sane in their mind- well, as sane as a murderer could be- didn't bode well with Fayt at all.

He knelt down slowly. "It's alright if you're scared, you know."

"Heh heh heh! Ah- ahhh- ah ha ha ha!"

The coughs of laughter only seemed to get worse as time passed. Each grunt played on Fayt's heartstrings. They were getting weaker and weaker.

Fayt pulled his sword from side, pointing the sharp tip of the blade against the hollow of the assassin's throat. "Maybe, though... I don't know. Maybe you don't know how to be scared."

The figure's expression remained the same, but Fayt could see behind the muscles, behind the ferial face, there was something alive. Something that wanted to fade away.

Fayt felt the sick already forming at the bottom of his stomach. "I don't care what your intentions were when you drank that Arkralyam. I understand. You don't know any different from what you've led in your life. You were raised to kill. Not to love. Not to live."

He felt some of those pitying tears free themselves from his face, and pitter onto his knees. His hands began to shake as his eyes now bore into those probably now blind ones.

"You've been taught to kill with Nethergate…and once, I was in your shoes… but…" Fayt spoke kindly, trying his best to compose himself, "I've also learnt this in life: if anything can save anyone, you've got to at least give it a try!"

The figure blinked, and giggled intensely as they seemed to harp on every single word Fayt was saying. Only difference was, this time, tears slithered down their face.

Then came the death rattle.

"K-k-k-ki-ah ha ha-ill!"

Fayt's eyes met with the silver sliver of his broad sword. This was this person's hope.

"Good night." Fayt breathed softly.

Blood split exotically onto Fayt's small chest as his sword dined into the throat. There had been a quick shudder, then a lifeless flop of the body. It was a perfect little puncture that took away that person's life. The incessant murmuring faded away like a dying flame, and the moonlight flowed with mercy onto that white, featureless face. It was a quick, painless death- much quicker and much less painful than allowing the poison to fully intoxicate them, Fayt knew. He'd seen many hopeless Arkralyam cases in his time. Sir Adray's wife had been one, for starters, but he didn't want to think about that right about now…

_-Man…this is never gonna come out-_ Fayt considered as he brought himself to look at his bloodied shirt.

* * *

"**Mystery" POV" (A/N: You'll know who it is. Read on.)**

**Four minutes earlier…**

_-Don't ask me how I knew that idiot brother of mine was going to seize that opportunity of making me "the bad guy" again, because, hand-on-heart, I don't know why. Ask me a question on how I was in two places at the same time, and why that stupid fop was plotting with Alty, and I swear I'll be able to answer it._

_Okay, this isn't like me. Stay calm. But, who is stupid enough to pull a trick like that off these days? Sometimes I wonder. I suppose he gets a kick out of impersonating me, but he didn't hear the arguments me and Cliff had, trying to get out of that hole when he was spying on us. That's right, Aron. You're not the only person with a jealousy streak, and I'm thankful to Cliff for that…hope you like prison, and hope you like being me in prison. I'm sure you won't, though…_

_Got to get this right…-_

"Maria, Hatori." Frey whispered, hiding in the brush as he signalled the two closer. He handled a long, brown wig, stroking the fake fibres for a few moments, and then smiled as he held up his thick braid up tightly against the back of head.

"I'd like to hear your opinion on this." He muttered, raising himself slightly from the ground. He shut his eyes complacently as he fitted the sea of hairs onto his head, and once they were firmly placed, shook his head violently to create a static mess. "Too masculine, or am I just not the part?" He asked mischievously. He then pulled his best cocky face, knowing he'd just got it dreadfully wrong; he then wriggled his hips around in the confined space he had, resembling a bull in a synthesis shop.

Maria let out what seemed to be an uncharacteristic giggle. Hatori only looked forwards, his expression completely blank.

Frey stopped, and wriggled an eyebrow. "I guess I must look even more ridiculous than he looks, then."

"You can say that again," Maria gasped, after a long bout of giggles. She composed herself, breathed, and signalled him forward. Hatori eyed the surroundings as Frey moved towards Maria, who was completely open to their attacks.

First thing Maria decided to do was sort out that parting. "I can see your fringe a bit. And stop smiling like that."

"Okay." Frey mumbled.

"It's not "okay", it's "whatever"." Maria corrected robotically, like a Greeton Corps Soldier. "You're acting like yourself."

"You need to act more like your brother." Hatori warned. "More pigheaded, more confident. Remember that."

"Okay." Frey mumbled again. He was exhausted, and it was too late at night to be playing the tactician, as per usual. He felt like he couldn't concentrate. But it had to be done.

"Stop saying "okay", it's "whatever"." Maria replied wearily.

"You've got to be more…_robust_..._idiotic_…" Hatori added.

_-Robust…right, right…-_ Frey looked up consciously at Hatori. "You'll use it if something happens, right?"

"Like a reoccurring flashback?" Hatori asked, perplexed. "If you remember something, don't let it get to you. Don't let your emotions get the better of you, because he'll know it's you. And- yes, _if_ it got too serious, I would. But only _if_."

"You'd tell me about…things, right?"

"_Yes_." Hatori replied, bored. "Stop worrying and focus on this."

Maria nodded. "It seems Aron's strong in mind- well, except around him," she pointed at the shadow on the hilltop they were watching. There was the shadow on the boulder who had been watching him, Cliff and Fayt earlier like a hawk. Pity that same shadow had enough fault in him not to move to a new place whilst attacking.

Maria nudged back further into the bushes, and Frey followed in, blending with the twigs as best he could. Maria pulled a concentrated face as she managed to tuck his fringe in. Frey felt like it was almost as though Maria was a mother, wiping away a mark on his face, and he laughed quietly.

"You can't laugh, either. Stop it; your hair is getting worse. The more you laugh, the worse it'll get."

"I know!"

"There you go; you're sounding like him more, now." Maria droned.

Frey wriggled his eyebrow again, and gave an actor's cough. "_Fuck off…_like that?" He said this a little squeakily, like his voice had never broken in the first place. He held his hand to his throat as he realised. "Hmm, maybe my tone still isn't right…he uses sexual tones, too…-"

Hatori gave him a cold look. He also looked kind of jerky at the same time. "For some reason, when you swear like that, it sounds like something illegal."

"What? It's not like when my brother tried describing Mela once: "_ya know, Pap, she's so spunky_!"" Frey imitated his brother's voice perfectly, and then pretended to spit on the ground. "Sick, sick bastard."

Maria jumped back, surprised. "And your father did nothing about that?"

Hatori sighed, and fiddled with the grass. "And he calls himself a "member of society…"" He commented rigidly.

There had been five people on that hilltop above them, and now, one started dragging down heavy sacks of…something down the hill. The trio clustered together tactfully, neatly hugging each other as the assassin darted past them, carrying some seven bags behind him. It was impossible to see the man…or woman's emotion, but they had an aura of a war god…one that had been held captive in the deepest, darkest prison.

"_Bodies!"_ Frey hissed tactfully, covering his nose with his scarf, which he had left at Maria's side. A pale, pink light began to pulse gently from where his red circlet had been, the colours flickering together like a dying flame.

"You've got to be kidding!" Maria whispered, covering her face as best she could. "Dead ones?" she asked, stupefied. She guessed if they were dead, they had been so for the past month, at the very least.

"Well, unless they now torture victims by surfing them downhill, I'd say no." Hatori spoke dryly. Maria gave him an affirming nod as Frey remained low, masking his face still. Hatori put a firm hand on Frey's back. "Your orb?"

Frey nodded briefly, and then moaned miserably. That chocolate brown wig, along with the obscuring olive leaves, concealed his face. "Yeah…yeah, it is…ugh…how… horribly…_wrong_. One of them was _younger than Mela_…" And as he spoke, as the bags were dragged further and further away, the light flickered and came to pass as well. "I hate…_I hate feeling like that_. Hate seeing it."

"Has the feeling gone? Tell me if you feel ill at all."

"No. No, Hatori. I've got to do this. He's got something else planned for Cliff and Fayt other than those four assassins there, I just know it." Frey gasped, as though he were desperate for air.

"Fine, suits me. You really need to be taught how to answer questions." Hatori leant forwards, jerking Maria's hair out of a branch.

"We stop Alty, they have a chance…I'm fine, by the way. Thanks for asking." Frey said with a cheeky grin. It was almost as if he had forgotten that there was a group of murderers standing only some twelve metres away.

"Quiet for a second, you two." Maria barked, as quietly as she could muster, but still sounding sharp enough to make the two of them jump. Maria had been peering backwards and watching the assassin disappear into the night. She kept watching the dark oblivion intently. "He's taken something. Nobody can run that fast."

Suddenly, it all came into place_. -Arkralyam!-_ Frey cursed mentally. Within a split second, images of Clair, Fayt and Cliff engulfed him completely.

"I'm going." He gulped feverishly, and rose. He handled the back of his costume, his _red_ nunchakus barely fitting into his brother's holster. "I don't care what you two say. Back me up when he's alone."

"That's not what you usually do, is it?" Hatori asked rhetorically, quickly.

And Frey snapped his head back just as fast. "You fight the world's most feared runology, sickle and tactical drug user alone and _see if you survive! _I'll need your back up!"

And with that, he crept out into the moonlight, being careful as to not get that wig of his mussed up with the branches. Free, he rose up quietly, straightening his back, and made sure that his hair flowed lustrously, as though his hair has just been dipped in melted chocolate.

_-Gotta get this right…- _Frey thought desperately, as he started to walk up the hill. The damp mud seeped through his boots, and squelched unpleasantly. He gritted his teeth and hurried forward, and his in mind, wished like hell that Fayt, Cliff, Clair…even his stupid bother of a brother would be safe tonight…_-Gotta get this right…you've got to do this…Apris, keep them safe…-_

And as Frey reached the peak of that hill, he knew that the feeling he felt more than everything else pumping through his body was inevitable; as those dangerous eyes trapped him by sight, he was now truly afraid.

* * *

Little Cliff sure felt hard. But now wasn't the time to take Little Cliff into consideration.

His heart felt as though it was going to spring straight out of his chest any second as he continually dodged swipe after wipe and was balancing on the staircase for dear life. Nel was casting runology from just at the top of the steps, which were chilled, cream-cold bursting swirls of magic that erupted from her fingers before transforming into a shooting scurry of icy needles at the person attacking Cliff. She also did this whilst struggling with another assailant below her. Clair and her father stood on standby, healing others wherever possible. A fuzzy haired, pretty woman with purple hair was trying to jump out of the window to get reinforcements, but, damn, most of Arias was on fire, anyway! Who was there to call!

Cliff snapped suddenly as the fourth or so knife that night was thrown in his face.

"You're gonna regret that, bud!" He bellowed, cracking out a flurry of flawlessly executed, powerful sidekicks, launching his hapless opponent into the air. Then, with a rapid leap into the air himself, he jerked his body around so fast, and swung that deadly reverse hook kick into the poor guy's shoulder.

_Crack!_

There went the collar bone, possibly a rib or two, the shoulder bone, maybe? Anyway, the guy was on the floor, and couldn't really get up. A ginger haired woman with a bob- Clair had been calling her "Tynave", or something- dragged him out quickly into a separate room, before knocking the assassin out completely.

"Farleen! Get to the prison! We need all the help we can get!" Clair bellowed.

"B-but!" Farleen stammered as she swung down the window, "_They might be criminals_!"

_-No shit! - _Cliff thought to himself as he jumped down from the balcony, landing viciously onto a bag of crumpled bones. A bitter shriek burst out of the assassin's mouth as 210 pounds of almighty Cliff crushed their body.

"Just do it!" Clair commanded. Adray shot four rounds of Fire Bolts at the person on the floor for good measure.

A door above ripped open as Farleen slithered down the window. "Cliff! Nel! Everyone! Is everyone okay…hold on! Where's Cliff?!"

Fayt had rushed out onto the balcony, his sword drawn. His shirt was soaked in blood.

"Right here, Fayt!" Cliff beckoned in the darkness. There was something down there, that was for sure, but it was so dark downstairs now, and so silent that only the platinum coated dusters could be seen, almost as though they were stars in an age-young universe.

It must have taken every ounce of strength not to lean over and grasp for those large, beautifully soft hands for Fayt. As Cliff gazed upon the man he'd kissed only moments ago (he was sure), he felt the air around him heat like a hot sauna. Something deep masked his throat and he coughed heavily. He staggered up a step, and out of the corner of his eye…

…Tongue of red were eating away from the base of the conference room, licking at the wet plants and burning away their essence. They started raging from the void of the room, and onto the steps.

Soon the embers formed.

_Fire_!

"Uh, I don't think we should go down there!" Cliff shouted.

"What?" Adray barked.

"There's fire down there! Fire! Shit, shit…!" Cliff stumbled further upwards, bumping straight into Nel.

"What's the matter? You scared of a little fire, Cliff?" Nel asked, puzzled.

Cliff shook his head and stuttered. He pointed. "When it's that big, yeah!"

His heart felt like it was going to explode, and every single bone in his body jittered in a nervous wreck. Cliff wasn't like this normally, but he hated feeling scared. He felt like he couldn't breathe, and…

He realised his eyes had been shut. He snapped them open to find Fayt standing right in front of him. "C'mon, Cliff. Get a hold of yourself." Fayt said.

"Father, we've got to try and put it out!"

"Yeah."

Clair and Adray climbed over the rails. They stood up adamantly and began shooting water magic at the flames.

"Don't struggle with the fire!" Fayt bellowed, as he shook Cliff's shoulders. "We can't stay in here too long!"

"I'll keep fighting it until the house burns down!" Adray said, thoroughly proud. "Nobody does this to my place and gets away with it!"

"But!" Fayt tried to argue. He was quickly interrupted.

"Don't argue, just do." Clair responded quickly. She confidently and rapidly chained a bout of Ice Needles onto Ice Daggers. Adray did exactly the same as his daughter, standing right by her side faithfully.

The flames only flickered away from a moment, before regaining their momentum in full blast and breathing up the stairs. The windows were now dancing with flames themselves, and slowly, the deep mahogany stairs raged black from the fire. Cliff, smelling the menacing flames, weaved his eyes shut, as Fayt rapidly turned, his right arm glowing a riveting blue.

"…Fine then! _Deep Freeze_!" Fayt chanted.

Deep pinnacles of ice started to crystallise and wrap themselves around the dancing flames. They melted upon contact, but as soon as they did, the fire was blocked by little streams of jetted, purified water. But then, as the fire became angrier, the water began to boil, and the wood holding it became weaker and weaker.

The panes were defeated by the flames, and fell through the staircase with an almighty crash. The wood thundered and crackled as it met with another pyre below it.

It was no use.

Clair and Adray jumped back, clustering back onto the hallway landing as best they could. "Fayt, Cliff! Nel! Get back, get back!" Clair begged desperately.

"Retreat! Retreat!" Adray bellowed.

Nel obeyed and darted up the stairs, still battling the flames as best she could with runology.

"Master Fayt! Cliff! If you two want to live, I suggest you both move!" Nel roared.

And Fayt met her eyes, crazed. "I'm trying! Cliff won't move!"

"What?" She whispered.

The blood pumping around Cliff's body now only seemed to be faint as the heat started to fasten around his waist. The flames that were approaching fast were nothing compared to the stream that was dashing through his body like powdered ecstasy, a sensation of utopia streaming through his veins happily with each and every thump of his petrified heart. He could see the flames beating closer, could see Fayt's desperate eyes, and could hear everyone shouting…and nothing! He couldn't move! _-Damnit, damnit, damnit!-_

His eyes overflowed with a powerful blue.

Adray was running around frantically in one room, as Clair and Tynave searched for an escape route.

"There's a hole here!"

"Alright, let's go then! No use sitting around like smelling ducks!"

"You'll never get that phrase right, father!"

Fayt hugged him tight, and tried shifting Cliff forwards before he got burnt by those flames himself. _–Move, move, move…c'mon, Cliff! Move!-_

Cliff felt something rage straight through his fingers, empty eyes seeing the flames on Fayt's back. And this _something_ sweated at the tips of his fingers like wooden mercury…

That ghosted image he'd seen the night before flashed past his eyes again, and it swished and swerved in a symmetric style, skimming and skipping along death-black cinders and rising again, surfacing slyly over the kissing lips of flame. He felt his eyes harden like the scales of dragon's coat, and for a moment, his body was without motion, without feeling. The jaws of the image then ripped open, rushing towards the couple and threatening to consume them in its ivory dents…

The eye of his mind suddenly blinked with surprise as he felt his hand elevate! That pain…it was back! Racing up his arm like crazy! He opened his mouth and let out a silent scream as the sensation ripped out of his skin…

Fayt cuddled closer into his chest, pushing him harder than ever before. _–Damnit, Fayt, get out of here! Run!-_

Nel shot another desperate round of Ice Needles, but as she did so, flames peeked up through the boards. "Fayt! Cliff! You two get out of there! Now!"

And just at that moment, Cliff felt a droplet of water trickle down his fingers. His body soon became limp again, but now something else was strange. His arm was all wet, and something was bursting within him, just-

_Whoosh!_ A deep, majestic range of beautiful magentas riveted from his pulsing hand like a circular rainbow. The light conquered the blood red threat of the fire, and for a moment, the fires looked as though they were about to cool and freeze in full blaze when a huge stream of water launched into the flames at full force, dowsing the flames and encasing them away forever, almost as though the were corpses being laid to raid in a coffin. The ripples of the water blades danced in the air as they battled through hell's tongues, devouring away the flames within seconds.

The flames at the bottom of the stairs died away. The power rinsed out of Cliff's body, and he flopped forward.

"What was that?!" Fayt gasped. He shook Cliff violently, and looked up to his sweetheart with a lethal dose of puppy dog eyes. "Cliff! Can you hear me?"

"…Urgh…crystal clear, kid…" Cliff struggled as he opened and closed his fist again voluntarily.

"Unbelievable…" Nel murmured. "A flow orb bearer of _that_ power? That's…interesting, to say the least, but we must get out of here…soon…"

"Yeah." Fayt nodded.

"Now, hold on a second!" Cliff turned, looking back. "What's an Orb, anyway? Tell me."

"In case you haven't noticed, Cliff, there is a fire." Nel breathed. "But…an orb… is a "gift" of runological power from the heavens. The flow orb is a one of the national symbols of Aquaria, much like the Sacred Orb. They grant bearers special powers, special abilities, and these gifts are either passed on through birth, or…given as a reward."

Fayt grunted. "Hmm. More like "cursed", I'd say…"

"Wha? Like "Heroes" or somethin'?" Cliff muttered.

Fayt shook his head abysmally, and black ashes flew from his hair. "You been looking at my thing when I wasn't looking again, haven't you?"

Cliff coughed as smoke was pumped into his lungs again. "What?" He struggled. "I meant, as in the _heroes of war_."

"Well, now you know what an Orb is, Cliff…" Nel started smoothly. "…I suggest we get out of here...unless you actually want to become a _Glyphian roast chicken_. If that's the case," she gestured, pointing at a growing fire behind them, "_be my guest_."

"No thanks!" The blond shivered, and began clambering further down the stairs.

Fayt followed, eying everything, absorbing every little piece of information which might allow them to escape. Pillars of wood trapped them in the hallway, and a tongue of flames was chasing them from the kitchen. "I think we're trapped. Great."

"_FAYT! FAYT! ANYBODY!" _a voice screamed.

Fayt snapped around as he traced the voice to the cupboard under the stairs.

"_FAYT! FAYT! ANYONE? IS ANYBODY THERE?!"_

Fayt gasped. "Mela?!"

* * *

**Meanwhile…**

The night was still a beautiful epiphany blue when the town became streaked with a furious red. The highlights were almost as if they were brushed onto the amber wood of the houses, the sparkling emerald of the grass, the thick mud at the base of the hill. Alty stood there, his hands buried in false toffee hair, blissfully unaware of Maria and Hatori's approaching presence, and the fact that _the real Aron_ was locked up in the central dungeon, that the _real Aron_ was now listening to Farleen's terrorising voice and screaming like a pansy...

Maria drew her weapon into place, taking it out quietly and aiming it carefully at Alty's head. She put her slim finger at the trigger, and waited for the precise moment.

Hatori closed in from the left. Every step was calculated, every shift of his fingers cautious. He pulled out what seemed to be a pack of cards to the ordinary eye, but anyone who knew Hatori would have known Hatori never liked games or tomfoolery. Hidden under each three layers of each card was a small, poisoned blade…

And Aron's twin brother sniffed into Alty's shoulder, trying his best to stifle back and distract that silly snigger that was slowly building up his throat. He felt that ugly hand slowly roam up down his back, dripping down him like slime, and felt it carefully cup his ass. He gritted his teeth, difficultly. _–Time it right, get it right…don't lose it…keep cool…_-

"You're unusually stiff, today," Alty commented, stroking up his leg.

_-Stiff!? Eww, as if...you creep…-_

"Bit, ya." Frey said clearly. "Fire's putting me off, though."

There was a heavy silence that ran up Frey's spine. _–Oh great; well done, me! -_ he thought. Everyone, and literally, _everyone_ knew that his twin bother…_brother_… had a fascination with fire. Everyone.

Out of the corners of his eyes, he saw something gleam within Alty. His heart raced suddenly as he ducked, hearing something swift and sharp scatter the air, and a dull, fleeting metal noise scour over his head... a lock of brown hair flawed his face, and he was just about to wipe those hairs out when he felt a cool hand press against his shoulder, gripping him painfully. Frey moaned in shock and pushed Alty as he felt that hand pulled at his wig half a second too late, and jumped back as a poisoned knife was drawn from the other one's side

"Well, well. _Hello there_." Alty rasped joyfully, tapping his blade with his fingers. "I'm glad you've saved me the trouble…_of coming to get you_."

"Hi." Frey recovered, responding optimistically with a faux smile. "Not bad what you've done here. You know, I really love your disturbed idea of redecoration; using fire and dead bodies? _Genius_." Frey said sarcastically. He then stopped for a moment, thinking. "Only problem is, you've never been that good with your manners, right? Attacking us when we have a visitor- a Glyphian _hero_ at that, _not_ Glyphian _scum_, by the way- doesn't exactly put you guys in the best light, does it? And your tactics are a senseless as ever." He sniggered. "Setting fires to Arias, you watching from a distance, you shifting in your tiny fleet of troops at the very last minute…that's bad enough. But you getting my idiot brother to impersonate me, just for kicks…I mean, what were you thinking?"

"You fool. Don't talk of things you don't understand, impotent child." Alty spat. "There are many things that you don't know about, yet. They are yet to unfurl."

Frey rocked his head to the side. "Oh? Oh, you mean…other than… _you_ getting Albel Nox in the slammer and plotting to raid Kirlsa? Other than…_you_ attacking the ruins in Parch? Oh, and…Asche outside my father's building… her betrayal doesn't exactly surprise me, you know. Did you really think I was oblivious to Asche assassinating nobles in Airyglyph and Aquaria, off chance?"

Alty twitched furiously, and Frey grinned. "So you've tried triggering off another senseless war, and causing bloodshed. Great. That's wonderful and all, but I think you've got holes in your grand master plan, here. Oh, and… and since you were getting such a…"hard on", so to say, just before…and I'm so "impotent"…let's _rape_ one hole a little further, shall we?"

Alty lunged forwards, swiping out his second knife from behind his back.

Frey dodged, and snapped his fingers.

And that was the signal. Maria darted up from the foot of the grass and twisted, aiming her weapon at Alty's chest. A sound exploded from her device- nobody had a _clue_ what it was called, but whatever it was, the pellets that shot out of it made a shrill noise- again. Frey had wondered what that other sound had been seconds ago.

She didn't quite get him though, as he moved. And as Alty dashed forwards again, Hatori wasn't far from catching up.

The sound was deep, and nauseating Alty grunted as a card stuck out from his shoulder, and he staggered back as he tried pulling it out in such a rage that Frey couldn't keep those stupid, nervous giggles in anymore.

The assassin glared upwards at him, his face plastered with intent, pointing at Frey. "I'm going to kill you all! First off…I'll start with _you_!"

"Hold on, wait…_I think I've heard this one before_!" Frey laughed, as he slid into mud, rolling down the hill. Unfazed, he scrambled onto his feet, pulling out the red bars from behind his back. It felt smooth, and all the energy within it began to bounce happily into his hand. He held one bar in his left hand, and shook it once harshly. With a buzzing click, the poles assembled into place, and were bright and erect, like a spear. He turned and ran down hill, Alty following him, and Maria and Hatori not far behind them.

He ran from side to side, sprinting faster as the hill became steeper. Suddenly, Rouge circled above his head, and swooped down alongside him so that they were side by side. He spared a look at her talons as Maria fired another shot at Alty, and found her talons bare. "Good girl," he rasped. "Good girl."

* * *

**Also, at the same time...**

It hadn't been easy, climbing down the Lasbard home, running down the barn roof without being seen (or falling down the weakened barn roof, in fact). But Farleen wasn't the kind of Crimson Blade member to let her side down. Whenever she'd thought about how Nethergate could have captured her, with every step she took, she'd think of the times when she'd outran a group of thirty of them single-handedly, and then let her fear drift away.

The cool of Aria's hidden dungeon was rare and afresh to her cheeks- Arias had little room in its gentle heart for constant torture and wargame antics, like Airyglyph did. The candles lighting the chambers had been rarely lit, and the prison doors were practically new and untouched by rust. Everything around her looked as though it had been built yesterday.

Everything was strange to Farleen's eyes, ears...well, almost everything. Three new prisoners sat in their chambers consecutively. Two of whom were perfectly silent; but that _ever so saintly_ voice screaming bloody murder in front of her certainly wasn't.

"_You'll let me out this instant_!" The voice screeched. "You hear me?! You don't have a right to hold me like this, do ya?! What've you got on ya ta lock me up, huh? "

Just behind one set of crystal blue bars sat an eccentric character, with wigged white hair masking their face like tangled bootlaces. His ochre eyes never left hers, full of a glowing vehemence that not even Farleen herself couldn't put her finger on. But she also knew that this man couldn't possibly be the man he looked he was…besides, didn't Frey have _turquoise_ eyes, not amber ones? The near-perfect copy had a few flaws in his design. And Farleen saw, out of the corner of her eye, a webbed finger- Frey didn't have webbed fingers…

"Hello there! We've been wondering where you were, Aron!" Farleen announced cheerily. "You can take off your wig, now. You can't fool me!"

Aron looked as though he was knocked for six. He blushed, abashed that Farleen had already seen through his facade. "A-Aron?! _H-How dare you!_ I am Freyjadour Lasbard, all important leader of the Rebel Army!"

"Hmph. Shut up, _fool." _The man next door growled quietly.

Farleen saw Aron turn around feverishly and kick at the wall. "Got somethin' to say to me, have ya?!"

"Silence, worm."

"Grrr!"

Farleen gave a cold, gruelling stare that most people would never see in their lifetime. "…You promised not to wear that costume, Aron!"

"Ack. Alrigh', alrigh'. Whatever! Sorry, alright?! Now," Aron garbled quickly, "_lemme out now, will ya? _What'sa going on out here, anyway?!"

"You know what's happening! But take off the wig! You look _kinda evil_!" Farleen chanted. "It's creepy!"

"I'm not evil!" Aron barked, swaying back his hair like an evil villain. "I'm not evil, sheesh, wake up, why don'cha? _Hello_?! You got fairies stuck in ya 'ead or som'un? Lemme out!"

"Take it off, first!" Farleen smiled eerily. "I gotta know you're the real Aron! So take it off…or I'll…"

Farleen paused to think of an appropriate punishment for the stand-in brother. As her eyes met with the burning candle, she gained her inspiration.

"You take that wig off right now, or…_I'll sing a serenade to you!_" She then fluttered her eyes dramatically, and snatched a candle from behind her, imitating faces that were reminiscent of those cheesy, half-baked love stories Aron had read as a child… "_La la la LAAA la, la la la LAAA la, la la la laaaa…." _

The man in the next chamber hissed and thrashed violently.

"What?" _Noooo_!" Aron whined, pleading with her through bars. " Stop! That's torture! Anything but _that_! Don't do it! _I'll do anything for ya_! Anything! _Anything_!"

"Good!" Farleen piped up. "So! Go on, take it off!"

Aron growled and gritted his teeth. He began cupping the fake braid with his long, thin hands, and smirked as he felt cool, free strands fall from beneath the wig and onto his chiselled little back. Within seconds, the wig fell off to the side, and a royal brown wave of hair escaped from the clutches of its teeth. It was smooth looking, and gentle- it looked soft, as well, and the child in Farleen just wanted to reach out and stroke it.

Needless to say, Aron looked different without the wig.

She smiled and gave a high five to the quintessence around her. "Alrighty! You're the real one!"

Aron looked at her sceptically. "…You're pretty dense, aincha?" He muttered.

"My, my, my!" Farleen gasped. "Calling someone who's letting you out "dense"!"

"…Hold on! Ya're letting me out?" Aron gasped.

Farleen lifted up one finger. "I'm letting all three of you out! But on one condition!" She squeaked.

Three pairs of eyes- brown, red and golden ones, suddenly targeted her body eagerly. The red eyed one looked as though he was ready to start a massacre, and the brown eyed one looked terrified and weak. Aron, however, looked reluctant.

"…Oh, that's wonderful, innit?! Conditions from you, sheesh…" Aron sighed. "Fine, whatever! What's the "condition", then? _I pay ya or somthin'?_ Cuz no way am I-"

"Huh?" Farleen said. "I thought you had _pleeenty_ of money!"

"_Tha's my allowance! No one's gunna go touching it_!" Aron boomed.

"_So stingy_…" Farleen shrugged. "Alright, guess you won't be needing my key, then!"

"Shut up! …So what's the condition, then, if it ain't money ya want, then?" Aron asked.

"It's this!" She twittered. And Farleen signalled him to lean in close and whispered words into his ear…

* * *

**(A/N: Meanwhile, back to Fayt and Cliff!)**

"Mela, is that you? Where are you?"

Cliff snapped open awake as Mela opened the door and began to skip down the corridor, totally unaware that she was literally a metre away from a pounding flame. "Whaaat? That little kid's here?"

"Of all the places…" Nel muttered.

Mela twisted her head around mischievously. "Hi, Fayt!"

Fayt slapped his head sharply and ran down the burnt stairs. Cliff stumbled and followed, with Nel carefully pacing down not long afterwards. As for Adray, Clair and Tynave…it seemed they'd found another window to climb out of somewhere. Or at least Fayt hoped.

"What do you think you're doing here?!" Fayt barked.

"Helping out!" Mela replied.

Cliff sighed heavily. "Hold on. A little odd that a little girl can "help out", isn't it?"

"Don't judge a book by its cover, Cliff." Nel warned, and coughed as black smoke conquered her nose. "Besides, Mela might be the only one who can get us out of here."

Fayt looked around anxiously. Most of the rooms were still alive with embers…

He knelt down in front of Mela. "Alright. I'll deal with you later on this one, but…how do we get out?"

"Simple, Fayt! It's so easy, Fayt!" She chirped happily, swishing back her hair. Cliff blinked as he thought her hair was- _surely_- going to catch fire. And then those eyes widened as he saw those cute blue eyes looking straight into him. "But Fayt, I might need Mr. Cliff's help!"

"My help?"

Fayt raised an eyebrow. "Hold on. How do you know Cliff's name?"

"Aron told me! And he showed me what you looked like!" Mela chirped. "But let's get out of this building first! There's soldiers outside, and lots of them! But we're okay because Ashton's outside, and so's Maria, Aron, Clair, Mr. Lasbard, Farleen, Tynave, Mr Sohma and _my sister_! _My sister's back_!" She said adoringly. "It's true! I seen her with my own two eyes!"

Something hit the pits of Fayt's stomach hard. -_…Asche is here, too?_ He bit his lip. _–But…why?-_

"How?" Nel asked. "There have only ever been three exits to this building. All three are blocked by fire."

Mela jumped up. "Nope! Come on; inside this cupboard! But be careful, the steps are falling down!"

"Hold on!" Fayt said. "Why do you need Cliff's help?"

Mela smiled innocently. "You'll see!"

She whipped open the door within a blink of an eye, the bark of the wood only just missing sparks of fire. She toddled inside with a rush, and knelt down in the corner as tightly as she could. Nel climbed in first, and then Fayt looked around suspiciously before stepping in. He felt something brush up against his ass, and he swiftly turned; Cliff's face was a masterpiece at work.

"_Huh, wassat? Fayt's squishy bottom?"_ Cliff smirked. "I'm awake, I'm awake!" 

"I'll pretend you didn't do that then." Fayt whispered with a rare, cheeky smile. He started to think of how he could get his own back….

"Alright, alright. I've save it for later, then…" Cliff teased. "So, Mela! Where's this way out then, kid?"

Mela suddenly put her finger to her lips and shushed him with a huge "shhh"; one that kind of resembled the sounds of waves at a beach. It was a deep yet soothing little sound that seemed to block out the sounds of the ripping flames. "It's a secret," she said with a big, faultless grin. "Aron told me this morning that he and Clair and his brother made a tunnel from underneath when they were little kids. Said that they'd spend days locking themselves in the cupboard and exploring…but how did they get their tea, huh?!"

She tugged an old, dusty rug aside from the floor, and revealed a hole in the ground. It was dark, russet brown with a little light through air holes that had been carved through the floor panels above them, and the soil was crisp and dry. She clambered in first, squeezing into the hole as best she could, and then plopping onto the ground just a metre or so. "The hardest part of it all is climbing up!" She squeaked optimistically. "Follow me!"

Nel slid in quite easily, and rushed down the whole with a gracious thud on the ground. "I'm surprised that I wasn't shown this hole by Clair…or even Frey for that matter. Although I'll admit, Aron is well known for his secrets."

Fayt and Cliff were still tredding around above the passageway when Nel and Mela hit their first corner.

Fayt had a playful grin on his face that spelt "trouble", but Cliff didn't see this. The only trouble he could see was the trouble of figuring out how the heck he was going to fit into that tiny hole.

"You should go first," Fayt compromised, with an _evil_ smile. "You're bigger than me, so you'll have to go in headfirst. _I'll take up the rear_."

Cliff looked up, perplexed. "Hold on there, kid. What are you up to? Spill."

"Nothing." Fayt replied innocently. "Nothing at all. _Nothing whatsoever_."

"Hmm…I believe ya!" Cliff thought with his trademark "I'm Too Sexy for my Shirt" smile. He swatted down onto his feet, and stretched his long, lean and muscular arms for a second, and then pulled himself onto his tiptoes. "Alright!" He barked. "Watch this, Fayt! You don't know this, but you're about to see an example of my excellent swimming skills!"

"Expert swimming skills?" Fayt raised his eyebrows. "It's earth, you realise that, right?"

"Course I do!" He beamed, proud. "But watch this! Wait till you see this!"

The motion that followed had an art and precision in its own right. Cliff carefully shut his eyelids, letting himself emerge with the flow of calming orange cooling his sight. He relaxed every muscle in his body (Little Cliff was being exceptionally difficult, but Little Cliff was eventually told off and kept quiet by Big Cliff as he swatted himself, relieving him of the sensation for just a second). Then, he brought himself to peace with the air in front of his face, and emptied his mind as best he could. Fayt had to do everything in his power not to laugh at the blond's extreme concentrated face, but even so; Fayt appreciated the art.

Then…_swoosh! _Cliff dove down, feeling himself momentarily flying without wings. He felt crumbling earth touch his chin and shins as he dragged further down the hole. He contemplated a perfect set of dance moves in his mind, a calming tune, feeling he had just achieved mainstream perfection in doing what he had to do. Cliff had solved the problem of getting into the hole…

But then he felt the pressure on his face stop. "Huh?" He mumbled, convinced he couldn't feel the ground on his feet.

He snapped open his eyelids.

He was halfway there!

But he wasn't moving!

_...-Damn! -_ Cliff cursed mentally. "Uh, Fayt? Urm…a little stuck down here."

Cliff's butt was sticking out of the hole, like a mushroom!

Fayt was beside himself with laughter. It was a strange, riddled kind of cackle, one that sent a shiver right down Cliff's spine. "Yeah," Fayt hiccupped. "I noticed."

Cliff saw Nel poke her head out from around the corner, and saw her eyebrows twitch with worry. Cliff turned beetroot, enraged with himself, and as embarrassed as hell.

He felt Fayt's footsteps circle his butt, and he gulped. Then…

"Owww!" Cliff screamed in pain, wincing and writhing around like a fish.

To explain in simple words what had happened, Cliff's cheeks had just met with heavy, armoured feet. "Fayt, what the _HELL_ are you doing up there!" He cried.

"Urm…heh." Fayt coughed shyly, and then murmured only loud enough for him and Cliff to hear. "_Cliff's squishy, bouncy bottom_. Urm. Well, you're right. It was good to see!"

Cliff felt a cheeky pinch on his bottom, and he squeaked in shock. Fayt cried with laughter as he then stomped on his butt, pushing it down.

"…Why, you…" Cliff growled. _–Bastard...-_

* * *

**SquishyButt! SquishyButt! SquishyButt! SquishyButt! SquishyButt! SquishyButt...!**

"We're out!" Mela chirped, louder and brighter than even Farleen could accomplish, as all four of them struggled out of a hole not far away from the church.

Nel sighed impatiently as Cliff struggled to get out yet again, and as he twitched and gasped as a certain, perverted bluenette she knew was probably up to something down there. _–If Master Fayt is subtle enough in knowing some of the things I used to wear…-_ Nel's mind wandered for a moment, and was quickly snapped back into reality as she heard the two, childishly twittering. "Hurry up, you two." She called over. "Nobody's here. I've checked it out; we're safe to walk this path for now."

Mela tugged on Nel's sleeve. "He was right here!" She moaned. "I know he was…"

Nel looked around quickly, surveying the pyre with electric eyes. The stones were alive with light, and the moon encrypted a message of calamity upon the entire town as the blaze eclipsed around the centre, and the heavens saw the middle-of-the-road town vexed with hell's earthly smile. To Nel, there was very little time.

"Oww, Cliff!" Fayt hissed loudly, climbing out of the hole, and Nel turned viciously. Cliff wasn't that far behind him, and he had an etched face of utter bemusement, as he smeared mud onto Fayt's legs sneakily.

"This is no time for jokes, Cliff!" Fayt sighed.

"Wha? I see. So you're tired of playing now!" Cliff laughed.

"Stop messing around!" Nel shouted at the top of her lungs. Cliff felt the hairs stand on the end of Fayt's back. _Who on Elicoor said that Fayt could get even nastier than Nel?_

-_Oh yeah,-_ Cliff remembered, -_it was me at the table a while ago, wasn't it?-_

"Now that that's over with," Fayt murmured bitterly, catching Cliff's eyes, who gave him a cheerful "thumbs up" sign, "Mela, you said everyone was outside!"

She turned around furiously. "They were!"

Fayt shook his head. "But…where are the soldiers?" he breathed quietly. He then and turned back to Cliff, and looked into those childish little eyes, confused. "Hold on a second. Cliff, you still have those nunchakus?"

"Ur, no, kid."

"Cliff…" Fayt stressed, looking worried. "…You mean, you didn't keep hold of them?!"

Cliff shrugged casually. "I thought I left them with you!"

Fayt stood there, looking a lot more stressed than usual as he seemed to ponder. Nel was now scouting forwards into the street, carefully analysing her surroundings, ears seemingly open and catching every sound.

A flame crackled behind him, and Fayt broke into yet another knowing smile. "_Actually…_Cliff. You've done us a favour, actually."

Fayt marched on forwards, following Mela and Nel, smiling.

"Huh?" Cliff staggered. "What do you mean?"

Fayt turned, meeting with the blonds face as he reached the middle of the road. "Now that I think about it, I don't think they got Frey."

Cliff looked baffled. "Huh? What makes you think that? I saw him getting taken away."

As Fayt turned, he stomped down on his foot, irritated with himself, and covered his mouth. _–Oh, that's great. Here it comes…-_

"…So. He didn't just _"go for a walk_", then." Fayt said bitterly. And then he smiled to himself. _–Gotcha!-_ He thought.

"Uh…no. No, I guess he didn't."

Fayt sighed profoundly and started to walk again. Cliff followed him from behind. "Well, at least now you know that there's no point trying to plot against him, Cliff. He's always been five steps ahead of everyone else." He sulked, sighed again, and took another deep breath. "You've met both of Clair's brothers, and I'm guessing you know there's some differences between the three of them. There's similarities- like shape of face, fighting style, and height- but they're not the same…and since Clair's a girl, they can't be 100 identical...therefore, there's differences in appearance, personality, gender…sexual differences to one extent- _probably_ (1)- and-"

"Uh…Fayt? Listen, I know I was paying attention in class and all, kid; but biology wasn't really my forte. I was better at the practical stuff; _really_!" Cliff answered truthfully, thinking that Fayt was forgetting to breathe, now he was going off a tangent. For some odd reason, though, that image of whips and chains appeared in his head again as he thought of the word "practical".

"But I get the gist; no two people are the same, right?!" Cliff stammered, embarrassed.

"Yeah, sorry." Fayt nodded quickly, carrying on and passing the pub. "It would be like comparing me to Albel Nox- Cliff, mind the wall on your left, it's weak!"

"Right." Cliff nodded, and strode forwards. He really had to get rid of that image. "But why were those…stick…things… important?"

"Think about it." Fayt challenged, as he weaved past more pillars of stone. Cliff loyally followed, like a bodyguard. "When you saw Frey for the first time, what do you remember?"

Cliff looked perplexed. "Uh…" He stammered. He'd just been thinking about squishy butts, with added whips and chains and cream and jelly… for reasons unknown to him. He wiped the image from his mind, and refreshed it with purer thoughts.

–_I remember…feeling angry…looking at that rat and wondering who the hell he was…why's that important?- _Cliff counted on his fingers as he walked along. "I remember…the noise… you looking scared before he attacked…orange, and loads of it…_red_? …Hold on, wait just a second! What was red?"

Cliff looked down for a second, cupping his chin in thought. He was silent for about ten seconds, before he lifted his head again. "Those- whatchamacallits? Nunchaqquies?"

"Nunchakus?" Fayt offered, raising his eyebrows.

"Yeah, that's it! Nunchakus." Cliff said, still mispronouncing it. "The ones before…they were brown, weren't they?"

And Fayt nodded cheerfully, with a huge smile on his face.

Cliff grinned back suddenly, proud of himself. "…I think I just stumbled on your page, kid."

"Yup." The little one nodded, and stopped, turning to face Cliff. He suddenly looked significantly taller…much more confident, and no longer like a little lamb who'd strayed from the flock. "You didn't jail Frey- quite the opposite." He whispered.

"Huh? What ya whispering for?" Cliff asked.

"Because I don't want Nethergate to hear." Fayt replied smug, and pulled Cliff in, reaching his ear. "…Cliff, Frey must already be sneaking around, dressed up."

For some reason, Cliff didn't exactly take this as good news. He'd half hoped that there had been a little realisation of truth, and that Frey had been found and locked up, anyway.

"Remember what I said…"twins look _alike?"" _Fayt raised his eyebrows, revealing those striking, bright green eyes yet again. His eyes smarted as a fire ripped out of a window behind Cliff, and he grabbed the blond's wrist, dashing forwards.

But then he stopped suddenly, as pillar of fire struck down from the church frame, hovering straight over their heads. They dodged quickly and Cliff pushed Fayt over to the side, trying desperately not to lean the blunette's back against the burning wood behind them. The block descended from the heavens malevolently and crushed the earth, blushing as the earth ate up its rage. Mela and Nel, who were still up ahead, jumped in shock and spun around.

"You two!" Nel shouted. _"Hurry up_!"

Mela jumped excitedly yet again. "Fayt! Fayt! Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine- _ah! Ouch_…" Fayt groaned, and winked over to them. "..Thanks, Cliff." He whispered into Cliff's ears.

"Anytime." The blond winked playfully. He then grabbed Fayt gently, pulling him forwards into a quick, secret hug as soon as their backs were turned. Fayt sniffled into his shoulders as he felt a cloud of happiness plague his spirit. The older man was warm, comforting…least of all appropriate, considering they might burn to death, but still…

"Hey! _You!_" A terribly loud voice cracked from outside the flames. Cliff suddenly snapped out of his utopia, and looked around, searching for the voice. "Yeah, I'm talking to _you_, ya big, ugly _lummox_!"

"…Oh, great!" Fayt dug deeper into Cliff's ear, grumbling. _–Why's he here?-_ He pondered. _–So much for the "plan"…-_

Cliff's ears pricked up, alert.

"Who is it?" He mumbled, as he squinted his eyes…

And if by runology, to the left of them, four people stepped out from the flames, and strode carefully into sight. Cliff instantly recognised…three of them, at least- Farleen was seemingly having trouble keeping hold of one- and Fayt slapped his face into palm. "…Why now?" Fayt murmured. "Nel! _Help_!"

Nel snapped her head around grumpily. "What is it now, Fayt?! We've got to get out! In case you _haven't noticed_, Nethergate are out there- _somewhere_!"

"Trouble." He answered. Counting up the figures, he then sighed heavily. "...And Nel? I think we better_ times that "trouble" by three_."

Cliff clenched his fists tightly, and laughed heartily as he saw one face in particular…

"Well, well. Look what the cat dragged in- _back from the garbage_! Heh, you're right, Fayt! Looks like we've got company…"

* * *

**Whoa? Wassat? End of chapter? TBC, folks…**

**Zel's Notes:** Aha! Another chapter…look! I can update relatively fast! Heh, only kidding…I finished this a while ago, just had to take so much out! And it is still "so much"! Ugh! There's a few lines that don't belong to me, but they only concerns...two people. See if you can find them. Chapter 7 is much more Cliff and Fayt focused...if you get what I mean!...but I needed to help sew some patches together...and rip some new holes in the story for you all to sink your teeth into...so...wow. I'm actually making things difficult.

OMG, that e-mail was inspirational! (you know who you are!) You're such a genius! Cliff's Squishy Butt was stolen by me, Zelavril. Wondered why? This is why! But don't worry, his butt is indestructable...and forever gropable/huggable/anything else that springs to mind...right? So he's not damaged, he's just got hot buns :D

Fayt's totally OOC, but I kind of wanted him to be this chapter because I wanted to show the perverted side that we see in the manga, but not in the game…ahem, the real Fayt (who knows that Sophia only wears underwear with cat patterns on! XD Fayt, "you naughty, naughty man, you!") He also sighs a lot…he's very exasperated and morose this time round. But Cliff! Cliff's poor butt gets ravished like a foot/soccer ball amidst the chaos! Poor Cliff! If you're wondering, Farleen was based on a nightmare I had (A Star Wars serenade, anybody?"), Adray was based on a silly mistake I made when I was speaking this morning… and a mysterious four at the end? Maybe I've been watching too much Fantastic Four. Which I've never watched. I don't know XD

OMG, Roast Glyphian sounds appetising, doesn't it? And since we're talking about kicking butts…Cliff's gunna have some pretty hot buns… (Oh noes, help me! I'm turning into Shigure! XD) Hooray for Fayt perviness and Cliff's downright, dumbed down innocence!

Other then the OOCness of Fayt, I'm pleased with Cliff. And even Maria…kind of. But I'm frightened with Frey now. I think he's become a "Gary-Stu"…and if you don't know what one is, just look at Sophia. She's the "Mary-Sue" image to perfection….ugh…I'm starting to like him, but…damnit, Fayt and Cliff are the heroes of the story! Not him! And the scene with Farleen, Aron and the two mystery people was fascinating for me to write, to say the least. "Allowance!" XD Aron's head only seems to be full of three things at the moment; sex; how much attention he gets; and his money XD But I bet you can guess one of the "other two", at least.

See if you can guess the "brown eyed" one XD

Flow Orb, huh? If you all know some Geography- God knows how little I know of it- then you know that geographical location, altitudes and effects of terrain all contribute to the levels of flow in water…hence the question in the polls from weeks ago! I was personally thinking Fire for Cliff, because of his quote "She says "I'm kind of guy…" …in other words, she thinks I'm an impressionist!" kind of him a sort of passion around him, a devotation… but people voted Earth and Water…so I combined the ideas! Plus, Cliff has a kind of kindness and serenity about his personality that makes him The Seemingly Dumb Blond, But Intelligent and Secretive, Macho Guy with a Heart of Gold :D So, I thought they both fitted him perfectly.

(1)- There is absolutely no ground evidence to say that sexuality can be influenced by just being non-identical twins! I'm basing this on the fact that Elicoor is an Underdeveloped Planet, so I'm assuming that Olde Englishe Science presumptions apply. Still, what does Fayt know? And in the other sense of the question…look at the psychology in the language used…and then comes the question; which of the triplets is, or are, gay? XD Lol! What a Derridian I am…twisting my own meanings and stuff. Who knows? I might be playing the Red Herring card with that question…:3 Boy, do I love Red Herrings…

Anyway, I'll shut up now so you can recover from the length of this chapter! 20 pages! Well…it beats the 26 pages I was going to submit. But I promise; next chapter's shorter. A hell'ova lot shorter!

All my love! Fresh Sages to all the readers!

Zel x


	9. Chapter 7: Aeria Gloris

**Chapter 7: Aeria Gloris**

**Disclaimers: **1 b0 n07 o\/\/n 5t4r 0c34n (leet speek: I do not own Star Ocean), or any of its characters. All ownership, patent laws, and so on so forth belong to the head honchos at Square Enix. I don't own Hatori, either, as he belongs to the wonderful Fruits Basket manga series.

However, Frey, Aron and Asche are mine: and you can tell :D And a fourth invented character appears…

**Warnings:**. Shonen-ai, Butt slapping. Swearing. Violence. Albel being groped to death (C'mon, it's fun!), Underage Drinking, Headbutts. You've been warned.

**Plot Theosis: **As one mystery unravels, many more are delivered before us…desperate to escape, Fayt, Cliff and co. are forced to join forces with some unlikely faces, and as enemies hide in the darkness, who knows what awaits them up ahead…Mela shows the world what she's made of, and some unique powers emerge from under the surface of the plight. Albel finds himself in an embarrassing situation, awaking old, hated memories…

**Author Notes: **I have a confession to make; I misread the results. It was Sun and Earth that joint won; sorry! Not water and earth! Eep! Sorry to everyone who voted. No worries, I'll still put the vote to good use. Wow. Chapter 7, you've finally came around. Yay! This doesn't feel quite like a "closing" chapter, yet, though. I think this story might go on for a very long time…:D Plus, seven's the charm, right? XD I really liked last chapter, no matter how dreadfully long it was. I didn't want to split it- sorry!

Side scenes are key in this chapter. The idea of this chapter is to show to you all just how little Cliff and Fayt are in control of the situation they're in as many events unfurl before them. Sure; it takes the focus off our two lover boys initially, but I wanted to give that real life impression that just one focus is never enough. Some people may be kissing in one room at one point, whilst something that sews their relationship together might be spewing in the background and not actually include them personally. I have NO idea what this is called, as you might have guessed, otherwise I wouldn't have given such a cheap example. Ho-hum.

Because I've got to do this mega quickly! Just a major hi to 4quintessence-chan (miss you! Hope things are going well for you!), CadmusCloud (thanks for ze awesome review!), AlchemistM, AutumnRain09, xXyunalaskaXx, supX, DarkLuminescence, and anyone else who is reading this. You all rock; hope you enjoy the chapter, and please don't be afraid to point out things that are wrong, guys :D

* * *

**Chapter 7: Aeria Gloris (1)**

This really wasn't a good time.

Farleen. Albel Nox. Roger and Aron. All together in front of the group with no runological barrier to protect them from scuffles.

Fayt barely had a chance to blink when Farleen lost her grip on Aron. A second flicked by, and he was between them. Fayt staggered back, shocked that someone so small had the strength to lift Cliff up so high.

"Y-_you idiot!"_ Fayt gasped, ripping one hand off Cliff's throat. "What. Are. You. Doing?!"

Nel and Farleen dashed forwards, clearly fuming, and their red cheeks rivalled Nel's curt, hot tresses. Roger smirked and turned to little Mela, and winked boyishly at her. Mela, in return, stuck out her tongue and then pretended to retch.

Cliff nearly shuddered in his vice. Those little eyes were nearly scarier than Albel's. _Nearly_.

He tried tightening his grip with his left arm, but Cliff didn't even flinch. He just wriggled his eyebrows, and laughed hard when Aron hissed like a kitten. Aron gritted his teeth, trying to look scary, but the fangs hadn't quite appeared yet.

"Aron!" Nel barked, her voice laced with something nobody had ever heard of yet. "Let him go! _Now!_"

"No! _He's gonna pay_! He's gonna pay for what 'e did ta _me_!" He seethed.

Fayt blurted out a chuckle. "But you deserved it."

"_Go on! _Say ya're sorry! Or…!"

"Ya think you can scare me?!"

And Cliff's head plummeted forwards.

_Thump!_

Cliff had been dropped onto the floor, and was standing, proud. Aron had staggered back, hands clasping over his forehead, cross-eyed as he stared down at the floor, gasping in shock and pain.

"Nicely done, Cliff." Fayt complimented. "That shut him up..."

Cliff nodded, and then turned towards Aron. "Want more?!"

Aron was about to leap forwards when both Farleen and Nel simultaneously tangled one arm behind his back. And then Albel- who had been standing aside for most of the scene, swooped in to the rescue as if on cue, and wrapped his left arm in front of his neck, revealing five, carved, razor-sharp moons.

Aron froze up. That irate, claret tint seeped through his untamed, desert mop like rattlesnake eyes.

"How would _you_ like to feel just how cold the water is outside this town, fool?" He growled slowly and delightfully, wringing out very syllable painfully. He carefully stroked the skin with his steel arm for a few seconds. Then, feeling the boy shudder, he jabbed them threateningly as he felt a vein. "You know-_sometimes_ – foolish little maggots like you _just happen_ to _fall in."_

Cliff couldn't believe his eyes, never mind his ears. "Whoa, Albel. Didn't see ya there!"

"Whoa!" Farleen gasped. "You're pretty scaaary, you know!"

"…Not as scary as your voice… still…" Fayt murmured quietly. "But enough about that! Farleen! I know you said you were getting "reinforcements", but this…this is ridiculous!"

"Whyyy?"

Cliff turned to Fayt cautiously, watching his every move as though he was a child watching their parents. Fayt caught this look out of the corner of his eye, and focused his attention to Albel and Aron (Roger had disappeared out of sight…for now.) "You honestly think we can trust _these _two?!"

"You wanna watch where you're walking, worm! Do you _want_ to get burnt?!" Albel growled viciously.

Fayt turned around consciously, aware that he'd just been milliseconds away from being burnt by a nearby flag. Cliff pulled him to the side, and coughed a little on black smog before looking carefully at Fayt.

"Listen," Cliff started calmly, "Albel won't do anything while I'm here-"

"I'll do what I want, actually." Albel interrupted. "I could slash this little fool's throat to _shreds_ in mere seconds. Think I _wouldn't_? Haha…tell me another one."

Cliff stared in disbelief. "Oh. Fine, yeah. Whatever you say, 'Bel…" He turned to Fayt with a trustworthy smile. "Listen, Fayt; it's alright! Why so worried?"

"… "Why so worried?"!" Fayt mimicked unkindly, his little ears tinted with red fury. "_Cliff_!"

"…What now…?" Cliff yawned.

Fayt twitched furiously. "_You know "what now"!"_ He mentally counted to ten before seeping in that huge breath, watching the horizon blurt out with a cruel, dark black. The clouds had now seemed to withdraw at the sight of Fayt's rage. Letting the black wine consume him, he pointed viciously at Albel, in a way that Cliff had never seen him do before. "I don't think he's called "Albel the Wicked" for nothing, Cliff! _I won't trust him;_ he's tortured way too many of _my people_ for my liking! He _attacked me,_ remember! And I won't work with _Glyphi_—the likes of him!"

Everyone fell silent, and Cliff leaned in forwards eagerly. Fayt could see out of the corners of his eyes that everyone was looking at him with complete and utter horror. At that point, Fayt stopped in his tracks. _–Me and my big mouth…_! - Fayt thought bitterly. Even Mela was speechless.

"…_Huh_?" Cliff said, gripping Fayt's shoulder a little tighter, pretending that he didn't hear. "…You say something, Fayt?"

Fayt sensed the danger. "_Nothing_!"

But something inside of Cliff had distorted, and a quiet rage pulsed from him. Like a bomb waiting to go off. "…Go on, Fayt!" Cliff challenged. "You're a man! _Say what you were going to say."_

Time seemed to speed up mercilessly around them, as almost immediately the raging flames seemed to sink behind the sauna in Cliff's eyes. Whilst gazing inside them, Fayt was reminded of Her Majesty's bathing hall in Aquios as he saw the harmless glitter, and as he felt the fiery heat bubbling from behind those tiny oceans. A great shadow hung over Cliff's face as a cloud passed over their heads, and white, powdered mist covered Cliff's cheeks, draining the colour, and sapping it instead into his rosy fists. This all happened all at once in a short space of time, and Fayt shivered through his adamant body.

Fayt shook his head. "…I won't say it, Cliff."

"Yeah? Why not, then?"

Fayt looked down, and breathed in slowly. "…Because I said so!"

Then it happened. Something crashed to the floor heavily in Mela's direction. Everyone turned. Roger, who had been hiding behind Farleen's leg, screamed raggedly. In the crimson darkness, for a second Mela had been standing, staring at the sides, her arms wide open, and her eyes warm. The next, a dark figure had plunged towards her, and she had disappeared without a sound…

Nel's feet thawed and she scrambled over immediately to where she had been.

"That girl!" Roger shouted heroically, as he stepped out of his cowardly composure. "She just got kidnapped! Someone just grabbed her!"

"What?!"

"Damnit!" Nel panicked as she tried to read the dusky tracks on the floor. She snapped her head upwards, and darted down one of the streets to the left, and not long after that, Roger followed too.

"Nel?!" Fayt gasped. He was feeling desperate. _ –What on Elicoor is she doing?! Nel! Get back here!-_

Cliff caught his eye. "Fayt! Everyone! We gotta follow her!"

Fayt nodded. "Right!"

The two scurried forwards like arrows, their movements and footsteps interlinked, their hands nearly touching. For a few heart thumping moments- as they felt the wind on their face, the sweat tingling down their faces, and the blistering fire- they were, yet again, a team.

Meanwhile, Farleen looked as though she was between a rock and a hard place as she pondered what she should do with Albel and Aron. They both looked at her, frozen.

"Bah." Albel suddenly coughed, turning his head. "Stupid little worm shouldn't have been out in the open, _should she_?"

Aron grumbled in his vice, and then snorted. "…Ya, like you're one t' talk about that…aincha _scared_ of fire, anyways?!"

Time, at that point, froze…if only for a second. Aron smiled as he seemed to hit a nerve, but then Albel's face contorted wickedly as he leaned closer into the little traitor's ear. "Oh? So you _do_ want to swim then?" He said menacingly. He then mechanically dug his claws deeper into his neck, and breathed on him gently, like a passing ghost. "_I'd be careful_, fool. I've heard _maggots_ become _maggot food_ in water…"

Anything to get his father's dying image out of his head, he glanced over at his old friend as he and Fayt ran around the corner.

And he frowned in disgust.

_-Who's the traitor now, then, worm? - _ He thought bitterly, watching those hands slowly touch. Farleen was frightened as she saw a grin emerge. _-…Whatever.-_

* * *

A chorus of desperate voices followed that sound of footsteps that trampled on the rooftops of the chapel. The scales of grey had caught many copper tones from baking in the midday sun, but the slate had never touched by real fire, or its reflection. This was the new day of the night, the Pasteur called it. The only thing that would be different from any other day would be the fact that today's dawn would be painted with spilt blood.

Crated cracks formed at the edges as the heavy feet pummelled them, and those seeking solace in the chapel- a place of sanctity and worship- jolted up in surprise to see the white of Palmira tainted with fallen blood around her eyes-a sign, to be sure. And as the moon beat softly through the eroding panels, faint outbursts of light flickered dangerously, and as loud crack after shot faltered in the air, the people inside only prayed harder, consumed by indefatigable faith. Praying for a miracle.

The Arrow of Apris. Ikelos's Book of Prophecies. Both phrases were being hummed like wildfire, amidst the scuffling of pages. There had to be something…

Then. It came. One second, it came. And came again. That sickening scurry of drumming feet pounded against the doors. The weak sounds of the wood splintering under the pressure. Faint and far beneath the white, crisp stone rolled the feverish beats; _doom_. Another pitter patter of blood streamed down Palmira's face, and streaked it, permanently. The holy cloud of dying stone being tortured by the inquisition of the wood barely sifted through, and disappeared in air like sand. _Doom. _Actualisation overrode them, and they wept in despair; some silent, some standing, some slumped and others sat quietly, as still as dead, and as dead as stone.

_Doom, doom._ The drum beats died away, stealing everything away with it.

And in the end, there was nothing, and only Palmira herself was left to grieve.

* * *

Cliff, Fayt, Nel, Roger, and everyone else had circled around the town, weaving in and out of ember patched alleyways, reading the tracks that, each time reread, looked more and more like tethered embroidery. Cliff nestled an egg of flames in his golden hair, but Fayt's hand was there to scuffle them out in seconds. Moments later, and Fayt stumbled, with Cliff at his side to drag him up onto his feet again, and they flew again. As they reached the end of their path, two magpies fell afoot onto the skeleton branches of the tree they'd passed only hours before.

They stopped in the shadows suddenly, Nel at the lead, frozen to the spot. It was almost as if she was a bat, searching for her prey, as she seemed to focus only on her ears.

"Careful, everyone." She warned, her voice little more than a whisper. "We've been lucky enough not to run into any scathes; although I cannot guarantee our luck will remain- stay here, Roger- I'd ask you all to ignore your surroundings and listen carefully for any trigger noises…any noises –_stay here, Roger!-_ that might give away their position."

"This is useless!" Roger whined. "We're going around in circles! And we're in the middle of nowhere!"

Cliff chuckled, pinching out an ember that had formed on the Menodix's tail. "We're right in the middle of Arias. Quit complaining."

Fayt was panting…and concerned.

"Nel, the tracks! They've stopped?" He asked ludicrously.

"Yes." Nel replied, clearly just as confused as Fayt was.

"No more…tracks?" Fayt muttered to himself.

"That ain't good. C'mon!" Cliff barged in, confident and posed. "Let's look around and find Melon – Mela, whatever her name is, and pronto!"

Cliff made out as to dash forward, but Fayt sprang his hand, like a mousetrap. "No- don't move!" He gasped, and pulled Cliff close to him, capturing his eyes yet again. His voice switched to a tiny whisper. "Cliff. I know what you're thinking, but we need to stay here."

Cliff didn't look convinced, and tried to pull himself out of his grip. "Cliff!" Fayt hissed. "Do you want to get killed?! Something's not right!"

"Yeah," Cliff retorted, "some bastard's gone off took an eight year old girl with him! That's what's _not right_, Fayt!"

Nel averted her eyes towards Farleen and Aron, who'd been scurrying together far behind. "You two! Read these tracks!" She looked around hastily as she realised someone was missing. "_Nox_!" She groaned. "Where's he gone?!"

Farleen had already knelt down, studying the dusk on the floor. Aron stood apprehensive, almost refusing to participate. "'e wand'red off." He said simply.

Fayt shook his head and tutted loudly. _–Great. One of them's gone AWOL already…- _He leaned into Cliff's ear, his cheek scarcely resting on his shoulder. He felt the blonde's heart racing up his neck. "…Any ideas where he went, then?"

But Cliff only shrugged. "I dunno. 'Bel's always done what he wants, when he wants." Those little coves of energy sunk to the floor like ships, as he breathed in air. "I suppose he's the kinda guy who'd look at a glass, and see it as an opportunity."

"Ha-ha. What, an opportunity to break it and stab everyone? I can imagine," Fayt smirked. He coughed, and changed his voice to a familial hiss. ""_This is what I think, worm- we break the glass, and turn everyone to shreds!""_

Cliff struggled to keep down his snigger as Nel shot him an adverse glare. He remembered how- just two weeks ago- Albel had some dumb chick (Cliff had already forgotten her name) between his claws as the words echoed in his brain, and Cliff battled harder to remain silent. He strived to gain his breath for a second; when he did, he studied Fayt's pink face carefully. "I never – _never- _thought I'd hear those words coming from you. It just doesn't sound right, kid."

Fayt smiled timidly, and brushed his hand against his. He whispered yet again. "Well…I meant it. And…I meant what we did before as well. If you did?"

"If I did…what?" Cliff asked childishly, and then gave him a private wink. "'Course I did."

And behind them, one crude voice shot out amidst the whispers. "Stop runnin'." Aron garbled. 'S' no use."

Cliff looked up at the short little man with contempt as he saw that conceited grin of his. "…What's "no use"?" He growled

Those sun-drugged eyes crept right through his skin. "I said I'd kept t'the deal, Farleen. So I 'm. An' it's no use." He sniggered fiercely.

"Argh! What the hell are you talking about, ya little runt?" Cliff grumped, like an old man.

"Hmph. Damn blond, can't'cha think for yaself? I'ma saying that it ain't no use, 'cause you've all just ran yaselves straigh' into a trap." He grinned, licking his purple lips deviously. "Unless ya knew howda wriggle yaself out ovva "coup de grace", I'd say ya'd better be prayin' fer fuckin' luck, or whatever."

* * *

The sound of their footsteps was quickly followed by the clapping thunder of terrified voices in the chapel beneath them. The armour of the chapel had been polished brown with footprints of mud, the colour sinking deeply into the stone as if it were on white canvas, and it had never been so daunting to see- up until then. One voice below them called this "the day of the night", and silence embroided the air as metal clashed harmoniously, as if to say these voices where marvelling the handiwork of the imaginary heroes on way to rescue them. These footsteps knew that for those voices, there would be no new day if they didn't hurry soon; that they could soon become the paint on the brush of blades, if they allowed the demons to pass.

Death's Dance carried it way on weakened cracks in the surface, and the dance of the other team was symmetrical- pounding down their feet gracefully as if circling a predator. One move pulled though, and sweet, jewelled elixir fell from Death's contorted face, snarling vivaciously as if _he_ had other plans. Sorcery erupted swift from the volcanoes mouth, and heavenly shots intercepted the attack, as that feeling of undying faith from down below swept through their veins, tickling their skin like fairy dust. As though they were wishing they could fly.

Nethergate. Arkralyam. The Sacred Orb. All thoughts caught on like a terrifying disease to the bearers of those feet as they struggled at Death's Door. There had to be something…some link between them all.

The link was never chained. Their fears formed. And conspired as they circled those feet yet again. They heard that sickening scurry of drumming feet pounded against the doors. The weak sounds of the wood splintering under the pressure. Faint and far between the exchange of blade and staff; _doom_. One slip of the foot, and the hole screamed open, the gorge of slate opening up fiercely as perishing voices below prayed for their miracle. A demonic cloud of lion thunder roared across the sky, and Palmira's tears started to drop down her oiled face, like cursed sunlight. _Doom. _Actualisation hit one pair of feet, and they waltzed in fury; some steps silent, some steps searing, some scattered and others sorrowful, as still as alive, and as alive as fire as Death was struck, falling downwards and downwards into his own creation.

_Doom, doom._ The drum of the heart died away, sealing away with it any hope of saving failed voices.

And in the end, as the dawn pink light broke painfully out of a skull, the souls were collected into the mind, and it blacked out, falling onto hordes of barrels, which then collapsed beneath the weight.

* * *

"Whaddya mean, a trap?"

But even before Cliff asked this, he knew that Aron was right. As he absorbed all the information that was in front of them; an open street-with plenty of entrances- was completely untouched by fire. There was the chapel- it was only a few metres away, but even that emitted a weird aura, as usually religious buildings were the first to ripped down in an attack. Everything was silent. No voices, no screams.

Nothing.

Fayt turned to study the tracks himself. Softly, he looked up after a while, and sighed quietly. "I…guess you're right. Cliff? What do you think?"

He shrugged simply. "I wouldn't know, kid. I'm not that good at _dirty tricks_, like you are…"

He coughed as quietly as he could muster as that image of Fayt plastered his mind, _yet again_. He couldn't help but look up and down Fayt's body longingly- it served as some sort of distraction to the fire. He rewired his brain. "I don't know what you'll think of this, since I'm only a _Glyphian_," Cliff tinged sourly, "but this is what I learnt as a soldier in Airyglyph; in a battlefield, not everything goes to plan. Nobody can play tactician like how kids play Mums and Dads, or something. You could plan out who you'll attack, where you'll go, who'll do what…but things never work out that way. They're always some jackass you didn't expect pulling some strings somewhere, or some sort of hitch in the plan somewhere. Thing is, _expect the unexpected_. And by this…maybe we didn't think there was going to be traps when we started running- I dunno if anyone else did," he paused, and took another gaze into Fayt's eyes, pretending to address him. Only thing was, in his mind, he was undressing him… "-but I guess what I mean it-argh- why not _enjoy _the trap, if it is one? Get me?!"

"Not really." Nel replied bitterly, just as Cliff finished.

Cliff slapped his knee impatiently, whilst Fayt gazed on, intrigued. "Argh, whatever. If you're looking for a plan, then Fayt's your man…or even _Wonder Woman_ over there." He stared intently at Aron, who'd been sitting off at the side. "Man! And I thought your brother was a princess!"

"_Whatever_!" He shrugged off, struggling to hide his inflamed face.

Cliff grinned, sneaking one hand behind his back so that he held Fayt's hand firmly behind him. "Must be her time of month. She doesn't want to talk about it." He teased.

Farleen giggled. Even Nel harboured a smile.

And then, a sigh.

Fayt breathed in deeply. "Alright…nobody means to laugh at you, but Cliff's right. Aron, you're the one who disappears off every cycle of attacks!" He leaned in, starting to plead. "We know you've been with them. Don't look at me like that; it's only your father who's been ignoring the reports, because you're a "good son"!" He changed his colours, and glared at him venomously. "And I don't know what kind of bargain Farleen dealt you, but you're the one who owes us something here. We could have left you to die, but we didn't. Nethergate-_Alty_- wouldn't have cared, but we did. Didn't we, Cliff?"

"Yup." Cliff nodded dully. "Not that I cared much for ya, but we wouldn't have just left you to burn, no matter how fun it would have been."

Farleen jumped up a little too enthusiastically. "I said he needed to _cooperate! _ But he's not doing much of it so far!"

Aron snorted unappreciatively. "Am I suppos't to be grateful…?! They 'new I were locked up, _ya bimbo_! They woulda got me, 'cause they need'd me. Heh. Anywa', I can't let 'em down: rules an' 'll."

Fayt stood in and reasoned. "Aron. Nethergate probably have your weapon by now."

"…Whaddya mean, "they got m' weapon"? Farleen said _you_ had it!" Aron leapt.

"Farleen left your old man's building not long after your _boyfriend_ set it on fire! She didn't know that it was- _misplaced!_ And you know how Nethergate recovers weapons as a death toll, right? They'll assume you're dead…which'll be good for you in the end, because either way, you could get killed." Fayt explained, "misplaced" being the operative word as he heard Cliff sigh out loudly.

Aron was quiet for a very long time before he raised his eyebrows with mischief. "…You mean ta say tha' the blond ape lost it, don't'cha?"

Nel twisted around. "You three!" She commanded. She leaned closer to the wall. "…Something's coming!"

Everyone copied Nel and hugged the cold, stone wall. Just around one of the corners, four creatures flickered out of the towering flames that were belching out from near the chapel doorway. Another stepped out of the chapel. The four men slithered on forward like the rest of them had, the shine of their blades fusing into a liquid gel in the gleam. They sleuthed forwards, hunched and silent, their breathing the only thing auditable about them.

Cliff wriggled as he tried to sit himself down comfortably. As he settled, Fayt leaning in closer by the second, there was a crucifying spark of gold that dazzled in his eyes. Curious, his eyes followed the light.

Asche- the fifth and final shadow- walked confidently into his vision. Cliff had never met her, but the moment he saw her, he felt a swelling sensation in his stomach, and anger imploded into his fists. Fayt had been right; this Asche really _was_ beautiful, and _did _have clusters of sausage curls that bounced up and down the light-but her eyes appeared to have two sides. On her left hand, was a platinum ring with an epicentre that split into two colours with every step she taken. And there was more; the little turncoat wore a cloak that embodied her shoulders and neckline completely, and Cliff just about made out a two sided, double stitched hem. The outside was pure white and littered with jet black cinders and had been made out of white wolf skin; however, as her right arm moved, grappling something tightly towards her flat stomach, Cliff saw that the inside was coated with dark and multiple hues of blood ruby velvet. It was almost as though she was an opened Pandora's Box wearing a technicolour dreamcoat for a disguise.

Cliff was just about sure he felt the shiver tingle down Fayt's spine before the kid even knew it happened.

"You okay?" He turned.

But Fayt was as silent as stone. Cliff felt a strange pang of guilt and sorrow as he caught Fayt's devastated face. It looked like something was slowly ebbing away out of him, and as what she was holding came into view, Cliff's hand found Fayt's yet again and gripped it tightly.

Little Mela with a knife to her throat.

Aron frowned. "_Shit_. She weren't suppos'd to do _tha'_."

Fayt looked crestfallen. "…I really don't believe this. Cliff? Cliff. You see what I see, don't you?"

"Whoa, she's nuts." Cliff growled. "Oh. Yeah, Fayt. If ya mean you see some chick throwing around that kid like a shopping basket…then you're not daydreaming this time…ain't they sisters, Fayt?"

Fayt nodded gently.

"…I don't get how she works." Cliff mumbled.

Asche suddenly spared a look in their direction, and smiled angelically. The knife pressed in a little closer, and a small line of blood frothed down onto the floor with Mela's tears….and then Asche turned away again, a drunk grin etched onto her jaw.

The hairs stood up on the back of Fayt's neck. "Did she see?!"

Nel didn't budge. She opened her mouth suddenly, but didn't speak.

Cliff whipped his head about, looking around into each and every single corner of his vision. "Think she's waiting for us to come out?"

"So it seems." Nel answered

A headache crept up onto Fayt again, and overpowered every sense in his body, like a shifting tide. He felt his hand pulse and writhe with energy. _-…Not now…no! Stop…stop, please…-_

But nobody noticed. Roger leapt up onto his feet. "Looks like we're going hafta go get her."

A dead body of emptiness was dragged into Fayt's mind, and was dumped in the ditches of his memory. His vision blasted out of his mind suddenly, as image of jetted fire rigged and coiled around his body, a slurping crackle playing sharply and cooling his bones. White spectacles glimmered, switching themselves on and off, on and off. Within these little spheres, Fayt saw shapes- _faces_- form from the gelled foam inside them. The flames were eaten alive by a sea of blue, and then everything wiped away with the shore that suddenly appeared, washing away at his sudden bare feet, cleansing him with fear and anger…his consciousness slipped as the waves captured him, dying away…

Back in reality, Cliff snorted loudly as he felt the heat of the flames catching up on them. He caught everyone's impending glare, as he held Fayt- securely- into his broad chest.

Both Nel, Roger and Farleen looked apprehensive. Aron looked as though he'd- literally- just pissed his pants with _trepidation_…or soiled himself with _constipation_. Cliff chuckled to himself. _–"My time to shine", as they say…-_

"What's---_THAT?!"_ Roger squirmed, but was quickly ignored as Cliff took his rightful place as the leader of the group.

Poking his chest out quickly, he breathed out, letting out any hot air. "Listen up!" He hollered. "If it's a trap- and I mean, _if_ it's a trap- then what the hell are we going to gain just sitting here? I don't see any _other_ options, or any other ways of getting the kid back; and we know where we stand, don't ya? We can expect fire, those guys turning in on us, and maybe a couple of burning buildings...I dunno…but it's all better than being hit by some kinda landslide, or something!" He stopped for a moment to pull his gloves firmly onto his hand, his knuckledusters gleaming in the moonlight. And he smiled. "Like I said, _enjoy the trap."_

And as if Cliff's words were symbology, a loud crack of a noise broke into the atmosphere. Cliff jumped in shock. Everyone's eyes met with Cliff's underarm.

"_**Cliff**_!" Nel barked suddenly as loud as she could. "_Drop him_!"

"Wha--?"

"_Do it __**Now!"**_

Cliff, feeling a growing surge of warmth in his chest, obeyed apprehensively. Without looking, he let his sweetheart drop to the floor. Fayt fell clumsily, like a sack of sorry potatoes, the stone glittering onto his peaceful face. The shimming –_what the?- _was sprinkled all around him, glowing ferociously, like –_oh, shit! What the HELL is that thing?-_ wildfire. A tinge of algae green cruised into Cliff's cheeks. His stomach churned as Fayt seemed to drag himself up lifelessly, as if he were a ghost that escaped from a shell.

Both parties- Asche had drawn her interests to the group right from the very beginning- bolted upright, astounded. And as everyone but Cliff froze, his eyes found themselves focused on this one thing:

Melancholy blue light was throbbing through Fayt's hand and forehead.

* * *

Chaos. Everything around him was pure _bedlam, _with those _fools_ running around, just waiting to get _killed_…

And he loved it. _Absolutely loved it._

Albel strode about the town, katana drawn at his side. _–Pathetic!-_ he thought, _-So those worms thought I would just follow them? Like one big, happy family?- _

"Hmph." He grumbled, as he marched past a burning home. The scars on his left arm seared numbly as he heard the brittle snapping of burning wood, and one unscathed family darted past him, carrying their belongings on their back, a _father_ guiding them through the streets, shielding his children from the flames as they rushed for the town circle. He smirked, remembering _that maggot _do the exact same thing for him.

"I wouldn't go that way if you want to _protect_ your family, _fool_." He growled impatiently, as the father passed him abrasively. The children huddled closely behind his knees, squealing, as the fire licked at their ankles.

They circled Albel cautiously, spinning completely as their eyes focused on the sword. Once at the other side of the path, they turned tail and fled, white quilts of belongings tearing between their legs and spilling onto the roads, as, _clearly, _their _cowardice_ overcame them.

"Worms." He smirked. He knew that just around that corner, white steel was awaiting them.

Stomping on forward, nearing the gate, he lifted up his katana to spot his reflection. A shadow twitched behind him suddenly and Albel span erratically, a line of light shooting before him as a stream of deep, blossom red smashed out, spraying out onto the hungry, flickering apricot leaves. A beautiful, black clad woman lurched, curdling blood from her white lips, and stumbled lifelessly, quivering on his shoulder.

Albel shoved her off roughly, turning around again. He lifted up the blade yet again, and grinned. It looked better smeared in blood.

The flames shimmering in the silver reflection of his being, chiming with delight as they fed upon life…it was memorising. Albel struggled to keep that wild grin behind bars he strode around, conquering the fear, indulging the magic of the pandemonium around him. After all, who didn't like a little uproar now and then? Who didn't like a little excitement? Except for that _old fool Woltar_, Albel couldn't think of anyone who'd thought otherwise. Besides. Albel had always wondered what it would be like to see an enemy _dispose of themselves_. Fire was a perfect solution.

_-"If they're the enemy, you kill them…if not…"- _His father's voice struck into Albel's mind, like a whispering ghoul. The rest of his voice crumbled away with the ashes, like the image of training with his father; playing like delicate film, the memory wavered into thin air. What did that maggot mean when he said that, anyway? The thought resembled no matter, however. His feet kicked against the stone wall. Beside it lay a pyramid of barrels, leaking wine out from the sides. "Red wine." He scoffed to himself, as he knelt down to one radiant pool. "_How ironic."_

Dropping his blade to the side, he curiously dripped his right hand in. He brought the liquor to his lips, growling as he felt the wine burn his tongue passionately, intoxicating him as he smacked his lips together veraciously. The elixir tickled and stained his teeth. That Woltar had told him how much alcohol could ruin men if wine was 'wasted in the gut'. He remembered that as he gulped each mouthful down. _–Rotten old man-_ He snorted in defiance.

He leant his claw against the barrels for support. He drew out his hand again for more; curved, ready to scoop out more and more of the essence…

Something brushed against the burned flesh on his left arm.

Smoke of alarm rushed into his nostrils. "Hah!" He curved, swiping behind him.

He looked around, perplexed. No blood. No scream. Nothing.

Albel shrugged, hair flickering into his face, and carried on with his own business.

Then again. He swerved. Nobody was there.

And _again_. Albel grew impatient. He snarled viciously, grabbing his blade and swinging it around his head. But no blood fell.

And then just as Albel thought the ghouls had given up the ghost, a sharp slap shuddered …through the top of his _backside_. Then came the loudest, most satanic, curdled hiss known to mankind. Seething, Albel couldn't control himself any longer! _Nobody_ touched Albel the Wicked in _that way_! Whore or no!

He faced the barrels. Something slithered in through the gaps. A snake?

Albel sneered in frustration at his own thoughts. _–Preposterous!-_

Noises reached his ears. They were quiet at first, but then they ripped through the air, in waves that tortured Albel's senses. He'd heard those noises…ignoring the crackling of the fire behind him, he'd heard those kinds of noises _before._ Those little noises of destroyed innocence, those tiny breaths from a compressed chest of air, those stupid, foolish giggles in between…Albel glared at the barrels venomously, as if trying to see through them. _–…That wine! That wine… I've just put it in my mouth!_ _Of all the…so, what they say __**is**__ true: those Aquarian scum have no shame at all!- _Albel gagged-oblivious to the hypocrisy of his thoughts- as his primitive mind focused on a nauseating image of some sort.

Albel the Wicked had been well known for his cruelty and perversions in Airyglyph. But not any of this kind. Albel wondered for a second if Aquarian lovers knew the meaning of "finding a room"…and if all lovers in Aquaria were pyromaniacs. What kind of insane duo revised their performance amidst a killing spree?!

Then…something happened. A tiny, ghost white hand peeped put through one of the holes. A human hand. It was already smeared in alcohol, and red circles printed around scarred wrists promised bruises. Rose pink light twinkled through the gaps and were captured into Albel's crests, the liquor red trimming away any hope of growth there.

As lightning struck beyond the clouds, Albel saw his chance and swiped.

"Ah, _fuck_!" The hand jolted open, as if it had a voice of its own. Four lines of blood ran from the palm and wrapped around the wrist, before they ran to the floor.

"How curious." Albel growled, uninterested in the recipient's pain for once. "I knew you Aquarian scum were capable of many things with your symbology; but this _is _news." He snapped his arm out, fiercely grabbing that tiny wrist and dragging it forwards, revealing riddles of sabre scarred tissue on a whole left arm. Some barrels fell down onto something soft, and a deep sound ran through the wood; something short of a gasp, but Albel couldn't really tell, as that twinkling light quickly became a distinct streak of bright pink.

Albel staggered back in fear. What sort of _witchcraft_ was _this_?

Witchcraft being the operative word, a perfectly symmetrical sphere squeezed its way through the gaps of the barrels, emulating its way perfectly through the space of the air as grandiose sparks sprang from a corrupt nebula and spiralled towards the skies. The light seemed to stroke the struggling clouds, ripping and shearing any soft wool inside them senseless as each dew of blood ran onto the floor, and as it shimmered out to the sides, any fire nearby seemed to extinguish behind the warren of fiendish red tinsel. And although Albel the Sensible might have ran like a coward, Albel the Wicked had other plans. Shaking, he drew his katana again from its sheave, the marking on the hilt a mere symbol from the old languages of Airyglyph that was shaped in wraithlike strokes. Albel growled in a masked mix of delight, excitement and dread.

The heavens opened, and rain fell heavily. As the cutting line slashed deeper into the skin of the heavens, white blood tumbled down. But Albel, blinking in disbelief, saw something different. -_Senilities! That's__** impossible**__!- _He denied, as legions of what looked like _souls_ were absorbed into the pile.

Thunder roared in the distance.

"-…_A…lb…el …-"

* * *

  
_

Little Mela wrestled her sleepy little eyes open as she felt a warm-cold embrace beat through her body. She became aware of her hanging, numb arms and how motionless her legs were. She blinked a few times as blue light dreamt into her cheeky, big eyes, bright as anything. Young though she was, she knew what was happening.

Voices hit her ears like fog crawled into eyes: "…him, Cliff!"

"Huh?"

"_Do it! __**Now!**__"_

Her eyes wandered as she felt herself being crushed into her sisters' chest. The armour hidden beneath her sister's clothing was solid, real…something she'd never imagined her sister would have. Regaining her senses, she stared with understanding as she saw the pretty blue light blazing from her left, and rose emitting from her right. She felt the tight, ruptured breaths of her sister beat onto her neck excitedly.

Mela squinted sleepily and watched as Fayt was dropped onto the fall, every part of his body seemingly floating in midair before he succumbed to dust. Fayt looked pretty with his hair like that…swept all over the floor. And she smiled as she saw Cliff diving towards the man, and how each time vetoed, he'd run to the young man, stronger than before. And she smiled at how another man- a man she didn't even know, a scary, wicked looking man- stood on the other side of the road's fork, dragging out a body from the barrels. As she saw where the faint light was coming from, she thought it might be better just to roll her eyes and be done with it...

"There it is." She heard her sister breathe out. Her voice still sounded just as sweet, "_See that light, boys?_ I wouldn't get too close right about now. That's one of the powers we've been searching for. Curious, isn't it?"

A gruff voice followed that sent an unforgiving chill down her spine. "So, that's what the master wanted us to see."

_-Is that…Grampa?-_

"Yes." Asche replied quietly, with that same, double-sided voice of hers. She sounded honest. Mela knew she wasn't honest, now… "He told me about it himself, once. A power he cannot control…that takes him on the whim."

"But do you think---?"

"Yes." She replied coldly. "Yes, I do. I think it's one of many True Powers, much like the Sacred Orb- speaking of which, that's what we need to _secure _next. We've got the Vanish Orb right in my hands right now, " She shook little Mela in her arms ruthlessly. "Then we can focus on…other things later. For now…we wait."

Mela took a mental note of all of what her sister was saying. _–What does she what to do them? Why is it all important?-_ She thought.

"For what, child?"

"The reprisal." Asche replied curtly. "The reprisal of power_; think of it like a volcano_. We don't often see why it happens, but we know that it happens, and often in many forms." She paused briefly, as if she were at a market, considering what to buy. "True Powers act in mysterious ways."

Fayt's body seemed to elevate forward, as if linked to some sky bound, invisible chains. The heavens ripped open with glory, and fleets of wine-tinted colonies pulsed into the sky. White light ripped out from Fayt's eyes as Cliff suddenly bolted, supporting his body, a fierce, firm hand brushing it's way into the bluenette's hair.

"And that metal fragment?" Boyd seemed to whisper.

Asche chuckled. "_A timeless artefact_…metal that- no; it's more than _just metal_. That I assure you."

Fayt's hands bound themselves higher. Cliff hung on desperately as a force dragged the two so high that Cliff couldn't struggle on his tiptoes anymore. He seemed to be whispering something in the bluenette's ears, tears running down his face. _–Are they really, really close friends or something?-_ Mela thought, confused.

Suddenly, light dropped out of the scene for a second. _"-Mela…-"_ A soothing, gentle voice tinkered at the edge of her eyes. She tilted her head slightly. She _knew _who's that voice was coming from! _"-It's just __**us**__. Don't worry; nobody else can hear…I think.-"_

Mela's eyes twitched in excitement. _–Us?- _ She thought.

"-…_Well, I thought you'd be able to hear Fayt, too. Suppose not.-"_

Mela grinned. _–They want me and Fayt. You get out before they know you're here, too.-_

"_-No way. I'm no coward…besides, I couldn't run away even if I wanted to.-"_

Mela felt a pang of realisation dive into the bottom of her stomach--_…Were you trying to be brave again?-_ She thought sharply.

She heard a sad, gentle chuckle. "-_My plans don't always work, do they?-"_

Instantly, Mela turned her head, focusing on the man on the other side of the road. He had finally scavenged something from beneath the barrels, cradling the body in his arms, a claw struggling with a head that was pulsing jointly with Fayt's.

The voice entered her again. _"-Mela…I need you to be brave. Otherwise, Fayt and Mr. Cliff…might not be around anymore.-"_

Mela's nose crumpled. –_I understand what "dying" means. You don't have to hide it from me.-_

Light seeped its way into her vision again, bursting through in steps that pained her to see. The pretty red fire blew away in the calm wind._ "-…On the count of three…- " _ The voice led her softly. _"-Albel's gonna run. When I give you the signal, you…-_

Everything soon became a blur as Mela focused, aware of everything and everyone.

She sniffed absently, hoping to get something that might just help her.

The moment arrived, and she slammed her elbow into her sister's stomach, rolling onto the floor.

And she rose. And as Albel turned the corner, _as_ Cliff brought Fayt back down to the floor, _as_ Roger hiccupped in fear, _as_ Nel breathed in jauntily, _as_ Farleen gasped happily, _as_ Aron stared up in disbelief and _as_ Fayt seemed to wake from his power ridden nightmare…Mela and Albel huddled the group together in a circle. Mela then glared into the sharp light that was still emitting from Fayt's skull…and felt something tickling up her nose.

Little Mela _sneezed_.

And then…

Everyone disappeared.

_

* * *

Eh, finished? TBC, folks..._

**Zel's Notes:** Game! You all lose the game: www(DOT)losethegame(DOT)com xD

Perhaps it's shameful that I haven't updated this in ages! And perhaps it's even more shameful that I haven't posted up the Yaoi yet! Damn. But my excuse is that I didn't want to be mean and overload you with more words. Yaoi IS, I repeat, IS going to be next. I've even written it.

Not much CliffxFayt this chapter round; but bear in mind, as per usual with me, this chapter was going to be longer than it is now. Sophia bashing was fun. Albel bashing (not to mention arse smacking!) was fun! However...near no CliffxFayt. It's as heartbreaking for me as it is for you guys. I tell you.

As you might have figured out, the plot in this story is really getting out of hand. Bear with me. I'm putting plot bunnies all over the place, but not for the sake of just putting them there, I swear. However, now I've got other characters to introduce in Chapter 8, I'm starting to feel that all the new characters I introduce are all the same. Does anyone else get this? And Fayt's going increasingly OOC. I'm not impressed. I haven't played Star Ocean in nearly two months' that's my excuse!

(1)- I've gone back to Latin, I know! However, this title is incredibly difficult to translate. I ripped it from the Ghost in the Shell song, 'Inner Universe', and the global translation seems to be either 'heavenly/unmistakable glory!', although since 'gloris' can have multiple meanings. Some say it can mean 'the nest of a bird of prey'. Anyhow. That's the reason why I didn't translate it, and both translations have meaning to me in this chapter, anyway. If anyone here knows Latin well enough to correct me, please do! I'm incredibly interested to see how bad my translation is!

Anyhow, got to keep this short. See you next chapter guys :D

Zel xxx


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